


Use Me

by thewalkingdead69



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalkingdead69/pseuds/thewalkingdead69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What should have happened after that "Oh" moment in the funeral home. Six chapters worth of pure Bethyl smut and fluff!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I knew you could still believe that there are good people out there. What changed your mind?" Beth smiled, placing her plate back down on the table.

A predictable response. Daryl grunted his indecisiveness from his seat, his eyes glued to his cup of cola.

"Daryl, don't you 'uh-uh' me!" Beth laughed, an expectant gaze in her eyes. "What made you change your mind?"

For the first time in days, Daryl's eyes bore into hers. This sudden contact startled Beth. Daryl wasn't one to make eye contact. Especially not with her. She'd become accustomed to his unintentionally rude and careless treatment of her in these close social quarters. His intense stare caught her off-guard and she shrank back in her chair. Daryl would never resort to this kind of personal connection if not to cover the fact that he was – for the first time that Beth was aware – embarrassed. Shy, even. Out of his depth.

"Oh," she whispered, feeling the air leave her lungs.

Immediately his eyes dropped from hers, and resumed their glaring at the kitchen table.

"Daryl, I-"

"I never had much," his hoarse voice cut her off, eerily quiet within the vast kitchen of the vacant house.

"I didn't have nothin', really. Didn't have no childhood. My dad used to beat me and my brother. Never made many friends in school or nothing."

Beth couldn't help but notice that way his hands shook next to his plate, rattling the fork noisily against the table. Without thinking, she reached over to lay her hand atop his – a move she would never have thought to initiate previously. His hand was warm, strong, and tough. He barely seemed to notice the contact.

"I came into this world – this nightmare – without much to my name. All I had was Merle, and look how that turned out for us," he grimaced, reminiscing for the shortest moment about his brother.

"I've lost almost everything. We don't know if anyone survived. Any of those people, our friends, Rick, Carl, Lil Asskicker..." his voice trailed off as he paused to breathe.

"Daryl, I'm still here," Beth whispered, squeezing the back of his hand gently. His other hand reached across the table to cover hers, engulfing her small hands completely.

"But you need Maggie. She's the only family you have now and I don't know if she's even alive or if she's laying somewhere being ripped apart by walkers."

"Daryl!" Beth choked back a sob, tears welling in the corners of each eye. "Daryl, you can't say that. Please. Stop!"

"I know I promised to protect you, Beth. I promised your father that I always would. But every time I have to leave this house I'm leaving you unprotected. I don't know what I would do with myself if anything ever happened to you. I'd be alone."

"I think we both know you're a lone ranger, Daryl. You've never needed nobody before. You were fine before us, and you'll be fine if I'm gone. That's the way the world works now. You've gotta be fine no matter what." She wiped clumsily at her face, trying to remove all traces of tears to regain the upper emotional hand in this situation.

"I can't lose you, Beth." His voice was soft and broken, and the words were mumbled almost as if Daryl was praying she didn't hear them. She smiled softly to herself. She knew that her heart of gold and bulletproof faith must have changed his cold demeanour somewhat.

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. I'm not planning on going anywhere," she murmured, shuffling her chair closer to Daryl's and wincing at the pain in her leg. She slowly extracted her captive hand from his vicelike grip and tried to pat his forearm reassuringly.

He looked up at her and she realised he'd been crying. She had never seen him cry. He was the cold-hearted statue of the group, completely void of emotions even at the most gut wrenching moments.

"You're the only thing I have left," he grumbled.

"Sshh," she whispered soothingly, reaching up to wipe away a tear that was trailing haphazardly down his face. Her hand stopped momentarily to cup his face, a strand of stray hair tickled the back of her wrist as she stared, transfixed, frozen in time, her eyes staring into his. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips, could see with perfect clarity every tremble of his bottom lip as he tried in vain to control his tears. She moved instinctively closer. A single tear was running down his left cheek, and she followed its trail with her eyes. So close. He was so close. The warmth of his body was drawing her towards him like a furnace. She exhaled, hard, a feeling growing in her stomach that she was unsure of, but wanted to follow through with.

So close.

He blinked once, his long eyelashes expelling another secretive tear, but he was no longer crying. Beth felt an unfamiliar pressure on the nape of her neck before some distant and fuzzy area of her brain realised that it was Daryl's hand, pressing against her overheated skin, pulling her closer and closer.

"Beth" it was a whisper, so quiet she almost didn't hear it. She saw the name – her name – escape his lips, that husky voice lingering on each phoneme. She was intoxicated. His scent drugged her. Sweat. Pheromones. Need. Lust.

So close.

CLANG. BANG. CLASH.

"Fuck!" Daryl stood up so suddenly that Beth was flung backwards into her seat. Before she could blink or even breathe, Daryl was gone and so was his crossbow. She faintly registered the front door opening, closing, the window shades being pulled open and shut repeatedly. Her head fell into her hands as she tried to stop the tremors in her body. What was about to happen? Where they going to kiss? Did Daryl want her? Did she want Daryl? She had already decided that the answer to the latter was certainly a yes. Why wouldn't she? Sure, he was older than her. Quite a bit older than her. But it's not like she could be picky. He was protective and selfless and risked his life to save hers more than a few times.

Beth stood, shaky on her feet, and went about clearing the plates and washing them off.

Heavy footsteps alerted her to Daryl's presence.

"What was it?" she asked lightly, unsure of whether Daryl had any intention of continuing their previous liaisons.

"Just that damn dog again," he mumbled, looking around the kitchen in order to avoid eye contact.

"Listen, Beth... I need to, uh, secure the house and check the alarms again. You should go to bed."

"But I'm not-" she began to argue.

"It's late. Go to bed." He cut her off bluntly, before running his hand through his unkempt hair and taking two more steps towards her, one arm wrapping securely around her shoulders and the other scooping her up under her knees. Beth remained silent, allowing Daryl to carry her bridal-style up the stairs to one of the makeshift bedrooms of the funeral home. He set her down rather unceremoniously at the foot of the bed.

"Are you okay to get showered and dressed?" he asked, keeping his eyes firmly planted on the floor.

"I guess so," Beth grumbled. She felt more than a little disappointed by his immediate change in demeanour. Not even 15 minutes earlier she had been ready to jump into his arms and give him her virginity and now he was acting as though she was a mere annoyance.

"Good. You're nothing but walker food until your leg heals proper," he smiled dryly before loping out of her room, shutting her door behind him. Beth sat there, dumped on the end of her bed, alone and confused. She heard the shower turn on for a few minutes, then the closing of the bathroom door, indicating that the bathroom was now all hers. She hoisted herself up onto her good leg, grabbing a pair of shorts and a tank top before limping into the shower and locking the door.

The steamy room still smelt like Daryl. His scent lingered in the shower, on the towels and the soap. Beth showered quickly as the water turned cold, and awkwardly dressed herself in her pyjamas before limping back to her bedroom and falling onto the top of her bed, not even bothering to get under the covers.

Then the tears came.

They flowed heavily and freely down her face. Her body ached from the intensity of her sobs. She cried for her sister and her father. For Rick and Carl and Judith. For the man across the hall who made her feel so completely exposed, so raw, so vulnerable, and yet made her ache with need for him.

She lost track of time as she lay on her bed, tears trailing down the sides of her face and marking the pillows. Soon the thunder and the rain joined in, each lightning strike illuminating Beth's figure on the bed, hair spread out, face messy with tears, chest heavy with wracking sobs of guilt, anger, fear and uncertainty.

Daryl awoke with a start. He heard Beth crying. Within seconds his crossbow was slung over his shoulder and he was marching purposefully towards Beth's door.

Her door swung open with such a loud bang that Beth jolted bolt upright in bed and let out a bloodcurdling scream. A figure was dimly illuminated in the doorway, and Beth's grief-stricken brain embraced the ridiculous idea that it was most definitely a walker, and that she would die here in this uncomfortable bed with a dodgy leg and no family to bury her.

"Beth? Are you okay? Is there someone in here?" a familiar voice growled from the doorway.

"Oh. Daryl," Beth impatiently waited for her heartbeat to slow.

"Yeah. I heard you cry out. I didn't know what was wrong," he murmured, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot as his eyes prowled the room for possible walkers.

"I'm sorry. I was crying. I didn't mean to wake you or nothing," Beth whispered into the darkness.

"S'okay. You sure you're alright?" He took two steps closer to the bed, trying to avoid looking directly at the girl in front of him, or the way that her white tank top did nothing to hide her breasts which were still heaving against the thin material as she struggled to slow her breath.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. Go back to sleep," Beth replied.

Daryl nodded briskly and turned on his heel, his hand reaching out to close the door behind him when he heard her voice.

"Um, actually-"

"What?" he turned once more, not entirely comfortable with this situation.

"Could you stay?" she asked. Her voice sounded timid, and quiet as a mouse. She was unsure of what his response would be. He paused for a moment, considering the situation carefully before choosing a safe reply.

"I can sit in here until you fall asleep if you want," he shrugged, perching on the edge of the writing desk in the corner of her room. Beth smiled shyly, before swinging her legs around to the side of the bed so she was facing him.

"So... um, what were you crying about?" Daryl murmured softly as he lay his crossbow beside him on the desk.

"Oh. The others. From the prison. I just miss them, is all. I wish I knew that they were safe." Beth sniffed.

"Can't guarantee nothing out here, though. You should know that," he replied.

Beth grimaced and hoisted herself up onto her good leg.

"Hey, what you doing?" he chided.

"My leg. It's so stiff, I think I need to keep some weight on it or it cramps up. Oh, damn it!" she cried as she lurched forwards on her unsteady legs. Daryl reached out instinctively, his hands grabbing her shoulders to keep her upright.

"You o-" he cut himself off as his eyes examined her face. Once more, he was in the same position. She was inches from him. Her skin felt hot and soft under his rough hands. He couldn't help but notice her hardened nipples pushing against the thin fabric of her tank top nor the goose bumps that rose on her bared skin when he touched her.

Time stood still.

"What are you so afraid of?" Beth whispered. He could hear her heartbeat in that dark silent room, could hear every breath she took and each flutter of every lash as she blinked. She smelt overwhelmingly sweet, like strawberries and lavender and something else. Woman.

"I'm not afraid of nothing," he replied, his voice just as hushed as hers. He was afraid that any louder would scare her away. "But I'm afraid of what I might do to you,"

Immediately her breath quickened, causing those beautiful breasts to tease him even more with each shaky intake of air.

"I'm not afraid of you. I want you. Please tell me that you want me too," her pupils dilated as she took one step closer, her breasts brushing against the front of his t-shirt and his obvious desire for her pushing noticeably against her exposed stomach.

"Of course I do. But I shouldn't. You're so young. So small. I don't know if I can be gentle enough," he growled, his growing erection becoming a major discomfort.

Beth sighed aloud before taking one final step closer, rising up on her tippy toes until they could not physically be any closer. Her chest was pressed firmly against his, his erection strained against the apex of her thighs, the heat from her womanhood teasing him deliciously.

"Daryl, please," she murmured into his ear, her voice so sweet, so innocent, so pleading.

"Put your hands on me."

Those words were his undoing.

Shakily, unsteadily, he let his hands drift down from Beth's small shoulders, down each side of her body until they rested on her waist. The heat from her skin was scorching, he could feel each expansion and collapse of her rib cage under his hands. The soft moan that escaped Beth's lips at this simple contact only added fuel to the inferno within Daryl's groin.

He lost no time in moving one hand back up to cup her face – her beautiful, unmarked, angelic face – and pull it roughly towards his, their mouths meeting in a passionate and violent kiss. Her hands went to his chest, shy at first, unsure of where to touch. Her naivety was endearing to Daryl, her whimpers of surprise at his tongue entering her mouth was music to his ears, the way in which she unconsciously grinded her centre against the bulge in his pants drove him crazy.

Beth squealed into his mouth as she felt his hands travel down her back to rest on her ass, giving it a playful slap before picking her up effortlessly, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist.

"Hold on, darlin'," he drawled, leaning back just enough to pull his shirt over his head, discarding it thoughtlessly into an unknown corner of the room. Beth's didn't fare too well, it was ripped off in one piece much to her annoyance.

"Daryl! That was my one good, oh!" she cried as his hot mouth found contact with her breast, his tongue circling an oversensitive nipple almost carelessly. Her hips started gyrating furiously against his, her head thrown back, her golden hair streaming down her back, glistening in the moonlight.

Her hands found purchase on his face, breaking the delicious assault of her breasts.

"I need you. I need this. Please," she whispered breathlessly, her mouth already planting kisses on his neck, his shoulders and every square inch of his chest that she had access to.

"I haven't done this before, Beth. I don't know if I can," he replied, his brain using its last remaining power to produce intelligible speech as he felt a warm slippery fluid transferring from Beth's core to his crotch as she grinded against him. She was so unbelievably wet. For him.

"You mean you ain't never had sex?" Beth pulled pack to look him in the eyes with a sceptical expression.

"Of course I have. I've just never... you know..."

"Had sex with a virgin?" she finished. He nodded his head slowly.

"I just... I don't want to hurt you or nothing," he mumbled. Beth smiled softly. Oh, Daryl. Valiant, gentlemanly Daryl. A man who thought nothing of shooting countless innocent animals, humans or walkers through the skull with an arrow was still deeply concerned about her own wellbeing.

"You ain't gonna hurt me, silly. I've had walkers trying to bite my face off for the last four years. I think that this will be a piece of cake," she laughed, kissing him briefly on the tip of his nose and managing to elicit a smile.

"Besides, I'm not nervous. I'm not unsure. I know that I want this. I want to finally know what it feels like to have you i-i... inside me," she choked out, the religious schoolgirl shocked at the language she had just used, but also secretly quite proud.

She was immediately grateful of her bold choice of words when Daryl made an odd sound (she could only assume that it was of desire) and headed towards the door.

"Wait, where are you taking me?" she squealed.

"My room, of course," he replied cooly.

"Why? What wrong with my room?"

"Mine has a mirror," he winked suggestively.

She cried out in surprise as threw her onto the king-sized bed, and she turned in time to notice that the sliding closet of the master bedroom had a glass door, effectively running along the length of the bed.

She didn't even have time to ask what the purpose of the mirror was before Daryl was on top of her, his mouth on hers, their tongues intertwining. Beth tried to wiggle out of her shorts, managing to get them halfway down her legs before giving up.

"Holy fuck," Daryl grunted, pushing himself up on his arms to take in her body and slipping her shorts off her feet in the process.

"What? What's wrong" Beth replied, looking herself up and down for disfigurements, walker bites and rashes.

"A virgin in white cotton panties? Do you even know how many fantasies you are making come true right now?" he smirked up at her before allowing one finger to trace a line down the middle of the panties, directly over her swollen core. Beth couldn't control the gasp that escaped her lips.

"Hmm, soaked through already. I haven't even started with you yet," he murmured before hooking a finger into the waistband of her panties and slowly pulling them down her hips.

"What are you doing?" Beth whispered, her eyes refusing to open in anticipation.

"Your first time should be special. It should be with someone who knows what they are doing," he explained before planting a wet kiss on one of her ankles, lifting her leg up in the air to rest on his shoulder. The other leg quickly followed. Beth felt another kiss, this time on the back of her knee, making her jolt in pleasure and surprise. The next kiss was on the inside of each thigh, this time he paused to nip playfully at a small patch of skin there and Beth let out an unexpected moan.

Holy mother of God.

His next kiss landed where she didn't expect it to. Directly on the source of her discomfort and tension.

"Oh my God!" she cried, her hips involuntarily bucking up against his face, against the sensation of his tongue against her oversensitive flesh. She heard him chuckle, and felt one forearm move across her hips to hold her down. Her entire universe burst into a million stars and galaxies behind her tightly shut eyelids, all she could focus on was the sensation, his tongue circling her clit with such tender precision, the grazing of his stubble against the join of her thigh, his hot breath warming her from the outside in.

"Open your eyes, darlin'" she heard and it took all of her strength to turn her head towards that mirror. Daryl pushed her legs up until her toes pointed to the ceiling and there was nothing blocking the view of his mouth on her body, his tongue darting around and around her pleasure centre with such accuracy.

Beth heard screaming as her hips started to shake against his ministrations, the muscles in her thighs clenched, her stomach tightened, her breath caught in her chest. A small portion of her brain tried to alert her to the screaming. Was it someone in trouble? Was a walker at the door?

She was shocked to realise that those cries were coming from her own open mouth, she gazed at her reflection drunkenly, saw her body shaking uncontrollably, and saw the arm that was previously holding her down reach up to cover her mouth to stop those screams escaping. Her legs dropped from their position, unable to be held there any longer as she rode out the waves of her orgasm, her hips grinding against Daryl's mouth, his tongue, his lips. She lay there, stunned, incapable of anything, her breath heavy and short as if she had just ran a race.

She vaguely registered Daryl kissing his way up her body, did not even realise that he had taken off his pants, leaving only a pair of boxer briefs that fit him snugly, showcasing the bulge in front.

"You alright, darling?" he smiled smugly, kissing her forehead tenderly.

"I think so, I've never had that feeling before," she responded breathlessly before mustering the strength to roll over, straddling his hips. Daryl caught a glimpse of the scene in the mirror, Beth's lithe body over his, her centre positioned over his, grinding softly against it, his boxer briefs the only thing between them.

"I'm ready now, if that's okay with you," Beth grinned, allowing Daryl to enclose her in his embrace and roll her over onto her back.

"I'm going to try to go slow, okay. But you have to tell me if it hurts," he warned, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. She responded non-verbally by wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and pushing her hips up to meet his. He chuckled under his breath before removing the last scrap of fabric between their bodies.

He positioned himself carefully, his eyes never breaking contact with her. He heard her gasp initially, watched a tear form in the corner of an eye and felt her nails dig into his biceps. This was new for him as well. He'd never known any girl to be so tight. He could feel every inch of her squeezing every inch of his length. When he was in to the hilt, he paused for a moment, kissing away the single tear that had rolled down her cheek.

"Please, move," she whispered, her eyes blinking quickly and expelling more tears. Daryl slowly pulled out before thrusting back in, his eyes concentrated on her expression. Her scrunched up face finally relaxed after the first few thrusts, her breathing quickened once more and her hands went to his hair, wrapping the tendrils of unkempt hair around each finger.

Oh god, the sounds she made. They would drive any man mad. To hear those little moans, sighs and whimpers made Daryl wish he were deaf. They were too seductive, too sexy, and they were proving too hard for him to resist.

Beth adjusted quickly, her hips rising up to meet each one of Daryl's thrusts. The sound of their bodies sliding together and apart filled the room, interrupted by his moans and her whimpers.

Daryl fell forward, encasing one of her pale pink nipples in his mouth as he continued to pump into her welcoming body. This earned a much louder groan from Beth, and Daryl felt more than a little proud of himself. He quickly scooped her up and rolled them once more, Beth squealing at suddenly being on top.

"What was that for?" she started to giggle but quickly turned into a moan as she felt her body slide down his length until she was sitting flush against his hips.

"I think you might like this position," he replied, placing one hand on her chest between her breasts to signal that she should lean back.

"Do what you were doing before with your hips, ah FUCK, like that, yes Beth," he groaned as she started undulating her hips.

"I can... oh ... you're so deep, I can't... oh SHIT!" she swore as her angle allowed for perfect friction between his cock and her G-spot. Daryl couldn't contain the shit eating grin that escaped him. His hand trailed down her chest to that bundle of nerves directly above his perfect view of his cock slipping in and out of her hot little body. His fingers went to work, applying indirect pressure to that little nub as he watched her movements get jerkier and jerkier, could feel her nails breaking the skin of his thighs.

"I don't think I can... it's too much... it's too good, I feel like I might..." she babbled, her release on the horizon. It was too intense. His length stroking that secret spot inside her and his fingers stimulating her clit gave her the impression that she was about to explode. She heard his voice, hoarse and oh so seductive.

"I need you to come. I want to feel it,"

And feel it he did.

With one more expert flick of his finger she fell over the edge, every muscle in her body contracting and relaxing, her pussy squeezing his length deliciously over and over again as she came down from her high. She fell forward, her mouth meeting his for a request, not a kiss.

"I want you to finish on top of me, like before," she whispered.

"Why's that?" he replied. She just shrugged noncommittally, and Daryl realised she was shy.

"Come on, tell me," he teased, thrusting up a little to maintain the friction. Her head fell backwards in pleasure as her confidence seemed to return.

"Because I like it when you're in control. I like it when you do what you want to me. You've just given me two amazing orgasms, now I just want you to use me for your own," she kissed his lips, her tongue tracing the opening of his lips as he wrapped his arms around her and flipped them over, wasting no time in thrusting into her body until he was completely buried in her heat.

"Yes, please, like that," she moaned, her hands running up and down his back, pulling his hips towards her, deepening his thrusts.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered harshly into her ear.

"F... fuck me," she whispered, her face immediately blushing.

"What?"

"Fuck me.. Please. I want you too," she squealed as he leant backwards on his heels, lifting up her hips to pummel into her deeper than before. He glanced down the length of her body, her hair spread out on the white bed linen, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. He saw the marks where his fingers had dug into her hips and looked back up to her perfect angelic face to realise she was murmuring something over and over again as he pounded into her.

"I'm yours... I'm yours... I'm yours... make me yours," she chanted over and over as her breath hitched, her body preparing for that moment of release.

He was close, he could feel it. So many years of pent up sexual tension, so many years of needing something and he had finally found it. A pint-sized blonde angel who was whimpering out her mantra, wishing to be his and only his with every thrust.

"D-Daryl I'm gonna c- c- oh, yes right there. Yes, yes, yes... right... there... I'm..."

Together they exploded. The moment Daryl felt her contracting body squeezing his length so eagerly he let go, emptying inside of her.

They stayed there for an infinite amount of time. His head resting in the crook of her neck, her legs wrapped tightly around his hips, her hips jolting with small aftershocks every few seconds.

Daryl lifted his head to find Beth staring at the ceiling, wide-eyed and awestruck.

"You alright, darling?" his brow furrowed with concern.

"I've never swore before. I've certainly never taken the Lords name before. I didn't think I ever would!" she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Well there's been a whole lot of firsts for you today, hasn't there," Daryl grinned before leaning down and finding her lips with his. She wasted no time in nestling into the crook of his arm, her head above his heart and her arm draped over his torso. Their legs intertwined lazily as Beth's eyes closed.

It was the first night in a while that she slept so soundly, Daryl's steady breathing and pummelling heart beat a constant lullaby in her ears. Her last thought before sleep enveloped her fuzzy brain was how tight Daryl held her.


	2. Chapter 2

When Beth awoke, she was alone.

She bolted upright in bed, instantly panicking at the unfamiliar room she was in.

Her heart jumped for joy in her chest as the memories of last night came flooding back. Daryl kissing her, holding her so close to the heat of his body, his body thrusting into hers tentatively at first, his fingers gliding over every inch of her skin and his tongue flicking deliciously at her clit.

Catching sight of herself in the mirror, Beth grinned cheekily. Her hair was a mess, she had a pillow crease across her face and her lips were still slightly swollen.

She cautiously clambered out of bed, wincing as pain returned immediately to her swollen ankle. Dammit.

Beth scrambled for something to cover her naked frame and found one of Daryl's wife beaters laying at her feet. A seductive smile graced her youthful face as she slipped it on, forgoing the underwear. Perhaps she would be able to convince Daryl that she needed something a little more substantial for breakfast than canned peaches.

Limping softly into the kitchen, she spotted Daryl sitting at the table with his crossbow at his side and a bowl of dry cereal in front of him, untouched. Gently she cleared her throat. Beth didn't know what she was expecting, but she wanted to run over to him and slide onto his lap, to kiss his forehead sweetly and whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

What she got was anything but.

"Hmph" he greeted her gruffly, his eyes not leaving his cereal as he picked at a bit of dry skin on his nail.

"G-good morning," Beth tried once more, a timid smile gracing her face.

"Heard you the first time," he grunted. "Breakfast," he picked up a granola bar and tossed it carelessly in her direction. It hit the floorboards at her feet. Stunned, Beth slowly retrieved the broken granola bar, the crinkling of the wrapper between her shaking fingers the only sound in that awfully quiet house. That naïve smile was still painted on her face, her heart so hopeful for something more.

Nothing. Not as much as a turn of his head. His eyes remained locked on the dry cereal, his boot tapping against the floor in an irritating rhythm, mocking her presence.

Beth's stomach dropped inside her body and nausea overwhelmed her. She clenched her tiny fist around the granola bar and pitched it back in his direction. It connected with his shoulder. Finally, he turned to face her. However his eyes contained no lust, no affection, and no love.

"What the fuck did you do that for, you stupid child," he stood up suddenly, the chair scraping back against the wood floor. Beth tried in vain to contain the hurt gasp that escaped her throat. She felt tears welling up in her eyes at his harsh words and hoped that he couldn't see them. To see her cry in front of him would only reaffirm his insult.

"I'm. Not. A. Child." She turned on her heel, storming out of the front door and into the forest. She was so consumed with anger that she had forgotten to bring her knife, and the sane part of her mind instructed her to stop as soon as she was out of sight of the funeral home.

She rested against a tree, the rough bark scratching at all of her overexposed skin. She felt a tear escape her eye and scrubbed at it angrily. She wasn't a child. She was a woman. Surely Daryl would have recognised that by now, especially after last night. How could he see anything other than a woman after he had taken her the way he did, filling her, fucking her, marking her as his own.

Beth shivered hard in the cool morning air. Her ankle was throbbing something awful, and her feet felt frozen in the forest soil. However she couldn't bring herself to go back to that house, to walk past the man who had taken the only thing she had left to give, and yet was treating her like a stranger.

"You're going to catch your death out here, you know," came a familiar drawl from behind her. Beth whipped around, her eyes searching for a weapon to protect her against this intruder. Daryl stood a safe distance away, his crossbow over one shoulder and a sulking expression on his face.

Beth always prized herself on being a stubborn girl. As her father had reminded her time and time again, nobody could change Bethy's mind. Once she felt one way about you, that's how she'd always feel.

"You coming back soon? It's cold out here and you ain't even wearing nothin'," he grunted, letting his eyes briefly sweep up and down her body.

"Leave me alone, Daryl." Beth's voice was careful. Calculated. Emotionless.

He huffed impatiently, swinging the weight of the crossbow to his other arm.

"Good fuckin' luck," he replied. "Ain't gonna leave you just standing around lookin' like Walker Bait, am I?" he replied.

"Oh, aren't you?" Beth swung around, her anger quickly overriding her cool, calm and collected persona.

"Because you don't appear to care much about me, let alone what might happen to me," she spit, avoiding making eye contact.

"I'm standing in the middle of the fucking forest in the cold, ain't I?" he replied.

"Aah, my hero," she murmured sarcastically.

There was a thunk as he set down the crossbow and shrugged off his leather jacket before offering it to her. She refused to accept it, her steely gaze concentrated on a beetle that was crawling through the fallen leaves by her feet.

"Fine," was all he said as he lay the jacket down at her feet. He deftly unsheathed one of his hunting knives and lay it down alongside the jacket. If she saw his offerings, she didn't acknowledge them. She heard him walk off behind her, muttering and cursing under his breath.

Once she was sure he could no longer see her she grabbed eagerly for the leather jacket, sliding it on and wrapping herself up in its warmth and the scent of Daryl. She would take her time, would make him sweat it out while he sat in the funeral home alone.

The door slammed shut behind Daryl and he slid down onto the floor, discarding his crossbow carelessly into the hall.

 _You've really fucked it up this time, haven't you!_ He cursed at himself silently, never hating anybody more than he hated himself right now.

Beth was breathing so softly next to him when he had woken up in those early hours. She was nestled so tight against his chest, her legs wrapped intimately around his in a lovers embrace.

He'd spent a moment just watching her sleep, and carefully moved a tendril of blonde hair away from her face. He couldn't help but stare at her angelic features right next to him. Her porcelain skin. The light pink flush of her cheeks. The flutter of her eyelashes. The swelling on those perfect pink lips from where he had kissed her with such bruising passion just hours before.

She shifted a little in her sleep, rolling away from him and allowing him to slip from the bed, grabbing some clothes as he silently stalked downstairs.

What had he done?

He had never felt so conflicted.

He'd slept with women before, of course. Countless numbers of nameless, faceless, shameless women who had been victims of backseat trysts, loveless fucking in shitty hotel rooms while his brother did the same only a short distance away. Sometimes fuelled by alcohol, more often fuelled by drugs. Women on their hands and knees, their only objective to pleasure him. Daryl had committed a lifetimes worth of fucking.

But he hadn't fucked Beth. No, he knew deep down, despite his previous attitude towards all things remotely emotional, that he had made love to Beth last night. He felt it in the passion of her kisses, the gentleness of his hands skimming over her virginal flesh, the sighs and moans that escaped her mouth as she'd clung to him, gyrated against him, convulsed around him. He certainly hadn't had any girl fall asleep in his arms, wrapped around him like a string around a yo-yo.

The idea that Daryl had made love last night frightened him. God, she was so young. So innocent. He almost felt like some kind of paedophile for wanting her the way that he did, and he worried that she might come to feel the same way. She could be his daughter. But fuck, she made him ache for her.

It was wrong, Daryl was sure about that. Where could it even go from here anyway? It's not as if they could get married, have children and live happily ever after. He wasn't even confident about how much longer the funeral home would be a safe place to stay. Every day was a fight, a struggle for food and shelter and survival. Beth distracted him, made him weak and vulnerable. His need to protect her overrode his need to protect himself, which he knew was too dangerous to permit.

He was awoken from his deep thoughts by the sound of her feet padding down the stairs and the sound of her clearing her throat. He made the mistake of glancing at her and immediately regretted the decision. She was standing there illuminated by the early morning light in nothing but one of his wife beaters. Her hair was loose and trailed down her back. He could see the outline of her breasts pressing against the thin white fabric, and with each breathe the hemline rose a little higher, teasing him painfully.

Daryl didn't know what to do. He had never been in this position before. He didn't want to hurt her, but he didn't exactly know how to explain every thought that had just raced through his mind.

Fuck, she was beautiful. Although he kept his eyes averted, he couldn't stop thinking about those smooth and creamy legs just metres away from him. What he wouldn't give to wrap them around his waist and bury himself in her tight wet heat.

He threw at granola bar at her, but regretted it immediately at the expression on her face. Oh, shit. He could hardly blame her when she threw it back at him although the part of him that remained untamed and bitter from his past filled with anger at her pettiness. He hadn't meant to swear at her, hadn't meant to call her a child. He was confused and angry with how she had made him feel. Silly as it seemed, that was the one insult that always hit Beth where it hurt.

As soon as he heard the door close behind her he shouldered his crossbow and headed out, keeping her in his view. The sight of her crying was something he had only seen once or twice in the whole time he had known her. Beth was tough. When she cried, she'd been hurt real bad.

Fuck! How could he be so determined to protect her, to keep her safe and far from harm, and yet hurt her emotions so readily. He tried to ignore the stirring in his pants as she bent over to tend to her swollen ankle, that wife beater rising up just enough for Daryl to catch a glimpse of her perfect ass.

He gave her a few moments to stew in anger before making his presence known.

"You're going to catch your death out here, you know," he tried to appear nonchalant, as though her tears had no effect on his hard exterior.

"You coming back soon? It's cold out here and you ain't even wearing nothin'," he continued, accepting that he would be getting the silent treatment.

"Leave me alone, Daryl." He'd never heard her voice so cool before, and it frightened him.

"Good fuckin' luck," he replied. "Ain't gonna you just standing around lookin' like Walker Bait, am I?" He took an involuntary step back when she swung around angrily, her finger pointing accusingly at him.

"Oh, aren't you? Because you don't appear to care much about me, let alone what might happen to me." Daryl's heart sank in his chest at her words. How could she feel as though he didn't care after last night? He attempted to inject some venom behind his next words.

"I'm standing in the middle of the fucking forest in the cold, ain't I?"

She mumbled something that he didn't quite catch. As she turned away from him, he had a chance to evaluate her situation. Stupid girl, leaving the house without any sort of weapon in a fucking zombie apocalypse. Daryl pulled off his leather jacket, immediately shivering at the cold air on his skin and wondering how the bloody hell she could stand there in his singlet without her teeth chattering. She continued to ignore him. Defeated, he'd left his peace offering at her feet.

Daryl slammed his head back against the wood of the front door in anger. God, he needed her. He wanted her. He'd never felt anything as good as making love to Beth Greene, and now he was quite sure that he'd buggered up his chances of it ever happening again.

He heard the kitchen door open and the soft padding of Beth's feet as she ascended the stairs. She didn't search for him, didn't look for an apology. He heard the shower turn on and shook his head at the knowledge that she was undressing upstairs.

As much as he accepted that he was in the bad books, his mind couldn't help but remember the night before. Oh, he remembered how she'd looked underneath him. How her eyes sparkled with her climax, and the perfect flush of her breasts as she came down from her high. He didn't think that he would ever forget her pleading in his ear to take her, to use her for his own pleasure, that soft sweet voice in his ear murmuring "make me yours" with every thrust. The memory of her cursing, asking to be fucked, to be taken by him, made Daryl's jeans feel painfully tight. He remembered her fingers raking through his hair, fisting it in handfuls with every orgasm, her hips arching to meet his uncontrollably as her muscles clenched so deliciously around him.

Before Daryl could fully comprehend what he was doing, he had lurched to his feet and started up the stairs. He didn't have an action plan. He didn't know what he would say to her. All he knew was that he couldn't live if Beth hated him. Just knowing that Beth felt used made his insides curl up with disgust.

He flung open the bathroom door and ripped open the shower curtain to find Beth standing under the stream of water. She yelped in surprise at the intrusion, but an angry expression quickly settled upon her delicate features.

"Get out!" she sniffed, making to pull the curtain closed again.

"No!" he grunted.

"Daryl, please!" she cried, and he could see tears forming in those beautiful eyes. _Oh fuck, please don't cry_ he thought to himself. He was doing everything in his power to ignore her wet and naked body, her skin slick with water and soap. He ached to reach out and touch her, pull her against him, feel her skin against his.

She self-consciously tried to cover herself from his eyes, a sob escaping her throat. The sight of her, back to the wall, hands trying so desperately to shield her body from his eyes after he had already laid claim on all of her the night before made his stomach flip uncertainly.

"Beth, I-" he began, unsure of where to even begin.

"Don't look at me, Daryl, please," she was crying freely now, her voice hoarse.

Daryl swallowed hard before stepping into the shower with her, closing the curtain behind him.

"Please, what are you doing? Daryl, leave me alone," the arm that had been covering her breasts reached out, pushing against the material of his flannel shirt.

He couldn't find words. He watched helplessly as her thin arm pushed uselessly against his chest. Was she frightened of him? He reached out his left arm because he didn't know anything else he could do. He touched her waist, a relatively safe place, he thought. Her skin was hot against his hand.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed, the noise reverberating in the bathroom. He recoiled immediately.

"Don't you dare touch me!" she sobbed.

"Beth, I'm so sorry," he began, but she cut him off.

"I don't have anything!" she cried, choking back a sob.

"My family is gone. My friends are gone. I have no freedom. I have no future. This world has taken everything away from me, Daryl. I had one thing left to give and I gave it to you, and now you're going to treat me like... like-" she cut herself off as another sob tore through her.

Daryl could feel his heart beating in his throat. She had no idea what she meant to him.

He watched her for a while, until her sobs had somewhat subsided.

"I'm scared," he stated, staring at her intensely. She seemed confused with his reply. Daryl Dixon wasn't afraid of nothing.

"I'm scared every goddamn day, Daryl. That's our life now," she replied sharply.

"That's not what I meant," his gaze was so intense that she felt the need to avert her eyes.

"Why, then?"

"I'm scared because I've never felt like this about anyone else," he blurted out.

Her silence made Daryl feel as though he should say more, but he couldn't find any more words to say. He observed her reaction and saw her standing there, still covering her body from his eyes and blinking up at him. She looked like a deer, he thought to himself.

He was surprised to feel her small hands reach up to him, cupping his face tenderly in her hands.

"I didn't know you were scared," she whispered softly. It was so silent in that moment. Daryl hated silence. He could only think of one thing to do, and grabbed her face in his hands, bringing their mouths together.

Oh fuck, she felt so good. She squealed in surprise at his forwardness, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck to draw him down and closer to her. Her naked chest came into direct contact with Daryl's shirt, soaking it instantly. Her nipples were rock hard and stimulating every nerve in his body.

She willingly opened her mouth under his ministrations, allowing his tongue to tease hers intimately. The shower rained down against Daryl's back and he shuffled them around until the warm water was cascading over Beth's cold figure.

Her breath became fast, her fingers frustrated with Daryl's stubborn buttons and ripping his shirt open at the front. He heard buttons pinging off the tiled floor but couldn't resist the low growl escaping his throat at her eagerness. Her hands made short work of his shirt, running over his arms and down his chest. The skin of her chest slipped against his own and an incredibly loud moan escaped from her lips at the contact. He pulled away from her for a second, amused at the noises that escaped this tiny girl. She looked almost embarrassed at her outburst, but it made his member throb painfully against the confines of his jeans.

His hands travelled down her sides to her bottom and lifted her up as he did the night before. Her legs locked behind him automatically. He broke away from her mouth to begin peppering feather light kisses over her neck, décolletage and throat, his hips thrusting upwards uncontrollably with every groan that escaped her. He hoisted her higher up his body with ease, allowing him access to her pink pebbled nipples which he sucked into his mouth one at a time, his tongue flicking against each bud expertly.

Her nails dug painfully into the muscles of his shoulders as he suckled on her gently. He could hear her murmuring "Oh my God" repeatedly as he tortured each nipple. His spare hand travelled down to his jeans, popping them open and breathing a sigh of relief as his dick sprang free from its confines. It grazed against Beth's heat and she bucked her hips against it, a squeak escaping her mouth.

Holy shit. Daryl had never been so turned on in his life. He could feel pure heat from the apex of her thighs expanding over his dick, hardly believing that one girl could be so steaming.

"Daryl, can I, um-" she breathed into his ear as she desperately tried to lower herself just enough to feel the tip of his dripping member grazing her pleasure spot again.

"What do you want, baby," he replied, completely concentrated on not just sheathing himself in her heat and fucking her senseless.

She blushed nervously.

"I want to, um... use my mouth... on you," she stammered.

 _Mother fucker._ Daryl was honestly surprised that he didn't blow his load just from witnessing those naughty words escape that perfect little mouth of hers.

"Soon, baby. I don't think I can handle it right now," he groaned.

"Oh," she looked away, her flush deepening considerably. _Damage control,_ Daryl thought as he stopped his ministrations and stroked her face gently with his spare hand.

"Darling, there's nothing that I want more then to have you do that for me. You have no idea how much I want to bury my face in your sweet little pussy and lick you 'til you scream my name and beg for me to stop. But right now I just really need to be inside you, okay?" he groaned at the way her breath hiccupped at his dirty words.

He felt her nodding as he continued to show affection to her breasts, her response to his earlier actions had excited him so. His mouth enclosed around one sweet pink nipple and nipped on it playfully, not expecting the cry that escaped her. A flush spread over her chest and Daryl realised that she was close. Fuck, she amazed him. She was already so close to that precipice and he hadn't even touched her centre yet.

His other hand grasped her other breast hard, relishing the pliable skin under his rough palm. He rolled that pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting another cry. Her heat was suspended just inches above his dick. Just one upwards thrust would envelop his length in her hot little body. The tip of his dick grazed against her dripping slit and she squeaked. He wasn't prepared for when she rolled her hips unconsciously, the motion moving her down just enough to impale herself on his length at the exact same time that she came undone around him.

Daryl clenched his teeth hard, trying to resist the pleasure that threatened to overcome him at the dual sensation of sliding into Beth's tight wet channel as it convulsed so rapidly. He remained still for a moment, allowing her to recover from her climax. God, she fit him like a glove. Daryl finally realised that he had found his place in the world, and it was right between this woman's thighs.

He started thrusting, slowly at first, but picking up pace as her moans and whimpers encouraged him. He loved the sounds she made, the way she whispered his name amongst various other nonsensical words. She pitched forward, her mouth close to his ear as she started placing wet kisses all over his shoulders, his neck and his throat.

"How – do – I – feel?" she whimpered in his ear, her voice breathy and so seductive.

Daryl grinned inwardly, so she wanted to play _that_ game, did she? Little did she know, he was the master.

"So perfect," he replied. "So wet, so fucking tight. And when you come? Fuck, nothing feels better than making you come when I'm buried inside you. You make it so hard to control myself," his voice was smooth, the complete opposite of hers.

His hands gripped her hips and tilted her pelvis back just enough for him to reach that secretive spot inside of her with every upwards thrust.

"Oh, yes, Daryl, _fuck_! Right there, don't stop, please... yes," she whimpered into his neck, her nails digging painfully into him once more as the pleasure built inside both of them.

"I won't stop, I'm going to fuck you until you come so hard you see stars, okay baby?" Daryl closed his eyes for a moment, his release so close. He opened them to find Beth staring back at him, wordless, helpless, and clinging onto him as he rocked them closer and closer to orgasm.

He needed to come, he needed to release himself inside of her body. But first he wanted to watch her come again. He was in too awkward of a position to slide his hand towards her clit, so he whispered the directions into her ear, watched her lips quiver in anticipation as he snatched one of her hands from his shoulder and forced it down to where their bodies met.

She leant her upper back against the tiles of the shower, allowing him to perfectly see her shy fingers reaching towards her centre and touching the point directly above where his body was pounding into her. A small sound escaped her lips as her fingers circled on that tiny nub. She came again in no time at all, jerking towards him in the throes of her ecstasy and sinking her teeth into the skin of his shoulder.

The combination of her pussy spasming around his dick and her teeth breaking the skin of his shoulder as she struggled to hold back a wail was more than enough to overwhelm him, and he groaned out her name as he pumped into her hard: once, twice, three times, emptying himself into her welcoming body.

An unknown amount of time passed before Daryl was able to raise his head from its resting position on Beth's shoulder. A small part of him queried how he was still standing, let alone holding all of Beth's weight in his arms.

He carefully set her down, revelling in her touch as she immediately embraced him. The top of her head fell a few inches short of his chin, and he enjoyed being able to tuck her into his neck in that way, almost like one would comfort a baby.

"So... am I forgiven?" he asked, a smile cracking on his face as his breathing rate returned slowly to normal. He reached around to turn the water off as it began to run cold.

"I guess so," she giggled cheekily, reaching for a towel to wrap their naked bodies in.

"You're so beautiful," he spoke before he realised he had voiced his thoughts. She blushed deeply and looked up at him from under her long eyelashes.

"You ain't so bad yourself," she replied smartly, pecking him on the cheek before turning to leave.

"I'm just gonna grab some clothes," she called back. Daryl stood there, shocked and exhausted from their earlier activities. He absentmindedly dried himself off, his mind replaying those delicious images.

Beth appeared within seconds wearing one of Daryl's flannel shirts. He groaned audibly.

"Please don't wear that, Beth," he pleaded, an unmistakeable twinge in his groin that both surprised and impressed him.

She turned full circle before him. He noticed she spent a little longer than necessary with her back to him, and seemed to lean forward ever-so-slightly so as to life the hem of his shirt higher and reveal the flesh of her creamy white backside. She was toying with him deliberately.

"What's wrong?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"You're making me want you all over again," he smirked, appraising the undone buttons, the way the material just covered the nipples of her breasts before meeting at her navel.

"Oh no, how awful of me," she teased, stepping in front of him, but turning to face the mirror. Her reflection stared back, Daryl's body directly behind her. She relished the opportunity to push her bottom backwards, grinding over Daryl's already renewed arousal with her bare ass.

"You're going to be the death of me," he groaned, watching her tongue dart out to wet her lips in the reflection. She winked at him, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the outline of her breasts through the shirt.

"We're already in a funeral home, I won't have to drag your corpse far," she quipped.

His hands reached for her hips, pulled her ass against him at the same time he thrust forward, his renewed erection grazing against her dripping slit once more, however this time he was able to witness the way her eyes rolled backwards at the contact.

"Holy fuck!" she breathed, and he almost cried out at the moisture that seeped out of her body, coating her inner thighs with a combination of their juices.

He repeated the maneuverer, loving the way she watched him in the mirror. Her hands went to unbutton his shirt but he stopped her.

"Leave it, I like it," he breathed against her neck. She whimpered, straining to feel his body pressed against her.

He ran his length teasingly across her entrance once more, relishing the sharp intake of breath it caused.

"Fuck me," she breathed, all light-heartedness had left her voice. She was no longer teasing him or attempting to seduce him. She was aching for release once more. Daryl swallowed hard at her words. Sure, she was at the perfect height with the way she was leaning forward. Her shapely bottom pressed so wantonly against his arousal made his blood boil.

"As you wish," he slid into her, filling her completely and wasting no time in setting a strong and pounding rhythm. She stared straight ahead, transfixed at their reflection, at the way her body bounced off of Daryl's as he slammed into her.

Suddenly, Daryl's hand came down against her ass cheek with a resounding smack and she jolted upright in shock, her eyes wide. He immediately regretted his action. He hadn't meant to, it was somewhat of a reflex for him, developed over years of watching hard-core pornography at the insistence of his brother and having shallow sex with strange women.

He pulled his hand away just in time to watch the red handprint fade from her porcelain skin.

"Fuck, Beth, I'm sorry, I-"

"Do it again," she demanded, her voice rough. Her eyes appeared to shine in her reflection. "Please!" she added, thrusting her hips backwards to encourage him.

Hesitantly he raised his hand once more and brought it down against her creamy skin, eliciting a hiss from her.

"Harder," her voice broke, her breath catching in her throat.

"Spank me harder," her angelic voice demanding to be spanked left Daryl feeling dizzy with desire. He obeyed, taking care to only hit the softest part of her behind, and with only enough force to slightly stain her skin pink before he would rub it gently to soothe the sting.

God, he was close. He could feel the beginnings of her orgasm, the way her walls would start to tremble around him. He bent over her, lifting her up so that her back was flat against his front. The angle made it harder to fuck her, but it did allow both Beth and Daryl to watch their bodies copulating in their reflection. Beth stared at the sight of his dick moving between her legs, the way her pussy lips were spread around his dick with every single thrust. His hand crept around and started rubbing at her clit, the other placed softly around her neck to avoid her bending forward. The feel of his hot skin directly on her back, the sight of his fingers circling her clit directly above the erotic reflection of his hard dick filling her tiny body. It was all too much, too intense and the hand that was splayed across her neck moved hurriedly to her mouth as she began to scream his name.

Daryl was teetering on the edge of his second orgasm of the day when Beth started screaming. He hurried to cover her mouth. He was close, so close. The sight of their bodies joining together and coming apart, the slick noises that their fucking made, the sensation of the soft curves of her backside pressing into him with every thrust, he knew that it was close to the edge. He almost cried out in relief when he felt her coming around him, her eyes fixed on their point of connection as her body jerked against his.

He pumped into her hard, free to let go now that she was finished. He let go of her torso, bending her forward over the bathroom vanity as he pounded into her tight little body. He glanced down, watching her slickness coating his dick with every thrust.

"I wanna see your face – when you come," Beth choked out. Well, now was the time. He grabbed a handful of her hair roughly, dragging her head up enough for her to see his reflection as he rammed his member deep into her pussy once more before exploding inside of her. He vaguely registered her muscles contracting around him once more, the sheer look of lust on his face as he unloaded into her eliciting yet another orgasm from her overheated body.

He fell forward, resting against the hot skin of her back, their bodies still joined together. She sighed as he pulled out of her body, placing soft and gentle kisses on her back.

"You're amazing," he grunted in her ear, enjoying the soft giggle it produced in response.

"Now you're forgiven," she replied.


	3. Chapter 3

"Okay, serious question. What is the cheapest cut of meat you can buy?"

"What?"

"Deer balls! They're under a buck!" Beth giggled, a single blonde curl escaping her pony tail and tickling her face.

"Hmph," Daryl stood up, wiping his blood-covered hands on his jeans.

"Oh come on, Daryl, can't you crack a smile? I'm making dinner tonight and everything," Beth rolled her eyes.

"Only coz of this deer I've just shot," Daryl reminded her before handing her an empty canvas bag they had found at the house.

"Fill 'er up. Don't want the walkers catching the scent," he nodded his head towards the gutted carcass of the deer. Daryl had done a pretty decent job of butchering it to the best of his ability. He'd managed to slice off a considerable amount of meal-sized steaks which he handed off to Beth who placed them into the canvas bag with an expression of disgust on her face.

"Ew, gross," she kept whispering, her nose wrinkling.

"What's the matter princess? This is all we'll be eating for the next week or two," Daryl teased. He would never admit that he loved watching her. The way her tiny little nose wrinkled up was just about the cutest damn thing that Daryl Dixon had ever seen. The streams of sunlight through the trees highlighted the few freckles that dotted her face, making her look all the prettier.

"I'm not complaining. I just keep thinking of Bambi, that's all," she replied before shouldering the bag and limping back in the direction of the funeral home. Daryl glanced back down at the carcass laying at his feet and kicked leaves over its entrails before setting off after Beth.

After spending a few moments admiring the sight of her figure walking in front of him, Daryl observed that her ankle had started to get better. She could put weight on it for much longer, and he'd spent three hours the night before watching her running from the front porch to the oak tree, testing out her pain tolerance and speed in case of a walker invasion. She wasn't nowhere near as fast as she used to be, but she was recovering fast. She now refused Daryl's help when hunting for extended periods of time or going on runs which he kind of missed. After all, what wasn't enjoyable about having an excuse to carry Beth in his arms and feel her warm breath in his ear and her soft kisses on the back of his neck as he used to piggyback her through the forest?

A shrill scream cut through the air and disturbed Daryl's thoughts.

Beth.

She was no longer walking ahead of him. He had been looking at her only a second ago, and yet he suddenly felt alone.

"Beth!" he called out to no reply.

"BETH!" he took off, running in the direction of the funeral home, his eyes glancing every which way, scanning for walkers, animals, hunters, Beth.

Fuck.

He stopped in his tracks, noticing something eerily familiar laying strewn amongst the leaves of the forest floor. The canvas bag, now stained with the blood of the butchered deer, abandoned on the ground.

Daryl wasn't so sure if he could even call her name once more. His heart beat painfully high in his chest, threatening to tear out of his throat with every passing second.

He spotted specks of blood leading from the canvas bag, and his feet numbly followed them. He didn't know what he was going to find. His mind felt hazy, his mouth dry, his stomach convulsing with nausea.

From behind the trunk of a thick tree in front of him, Daryl's eye caught sight of a flash of blonde. He stumbled towards it, unsure if it was a ghost or a lure or a trap.

Beth was crouched with her back towards him, a walker sprawled beneath her. He stepped behind her figure just in time to hear the wet slurp of her knife exiting the skull of the walker.

"Beth?" he whispered, unsure if his voice would break.

She turned to face him, her pupils dilated in fear and panic.

"Daryl?" she blinked in the sunlight, nervously holding her knife in front of her.

"It came out of nowhere," she murmured, looking down at the prone figure beneath her.

"Are you okay?" Daryl whispered in the silence of the forest, stepping tentatively closer to place a hand on her shaking shoulder. The contact appeared to break her trance as she started gasping, her hands pushing at the body of the walker as she tried to pull herself up.

"I'm fine, Daryl. I'm f-fine."

"Goddamn it Beth, I thought you were dead!" Daryl grimaced, noticing that her shirt had been torn down the side.

"This is why you don't walk ahead of me, okay. For fuck sake, would it kill you to just do what I say once in a while?" he reprimanded, once again feeling a surge of anger wash over him.

Beth's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I took care of it didn't I? That son of a bitch came out of nowhere and grabbed me so I reached for my knife and stabbed him right between the eyes!" she replied, her tone full of frustration.

"After screaming your damn head off and alerting every other walker in the forest to our whereabouts," Daryl continued.

Beth sighed, stifling her reply simply to diffuse the tension that had grown between them.

"Did you pick up the steaks?" she asked, her tone suddenly calm.

"What? What do you mean did I... I thought you were dead! I followed a trail of blood expecting you to be gutted at the end of it!" Daryl roared.

"I'm capable of looking after myself. Let's move on..."

"You aren't capable of anything!" he replied cuttingly. He immediately regretted his words and watched as Beth took his insults as though he had complimented her hairstyle. Apart from the blush in her cheeks deepening ever so slightly, she took a deep breath and continued.

"When you've finished, please bring me the steaks so I can make dinner." Beth had used the exact same tone of voice that her mother had used on the family countless times to get what she wanted. It was the mature voice of reason.

Without another word, Beth turned on her heel and headed back to the house, leaving Daryl to retrieve his dinner from the forest.

Needless to say, dinner was tense. Daryl had thrown the bag of steaks violently on the kitchen table when he finally returned to the house before sitting down at the kitchen table to sulk. He found it incredibly difficult to maintain his attitude once he realised that she'd changed her clothes and was now wearing a short pleated skirt and white blouse. Her dirty blood-covered clothes sat by the sink, pleading to be washed. She sang softly as she pottered around the kitchen, completely ignoring his presence. Within 30 minutes, dinner was ready and she slid his plate across the table. He couldn't resist the rumble of his stomach at the scent of a steak.

"So, what do we need to get on the next run?" Beth enquired politely. During a zombie apocalypse, dinnertime conversation had taken a turn for the worse. All she received was a curt shrug from Daryl as he dug into his steak and finished it in record time. He sat back in his chair like a teenager, watching her out of the corner of his eye with his arms crossed.

"Tinned peaches for dessert?" she gestured towards the towering stock of tinned fruits they had accumulated.

Once more, a noncommittal shrug.

"You know," she smiled, "we're the only two people left in Georgia. You're going to have to talk to me sooner or later."

"'Spose so," he grunted.

"Oh come on, are you really still mad at me?" Beth tilted her head to the side inquisitively, attempting to catch his eye.

"I'm sorry for what I said before," he choked out, unfamiliar with apologies.

"Thank you," she bit her bottom lip.

Daryl might have the anger problems of a twelve year old boy, but he wasn't no fool when it came to womenfolk. He could tell she was trying to seduce him into make-up sex. He'd also come to the conclusion that the short skirt and white blouse reminded him of a school uniform, which he was sure she didn't put together for her own benefit.

He soon felt her foot nudging his calf, looking for a response.

"I just worry about you, that's all," he continued.

He heard her chair scrape against the floorboards as she stood up and walked around to him before taking a seat on his lap.

Goddamn.

It was almost evil of her to dress the way she did and then sit on him right in the middle of an argument to make him forget all the reasons he was annoyed with her.

"I know you worry about me baby. But you don't have to. I'm all grown up now," she whispered into his ear before planting a deliciously wet kiss on the overheated skin of his neck. She felt his desire spring to life beneath her bottom.

"Could have fooled me dressing up like this," he teased, trying his hardest to restrain from touching her. She deserved a little torture after all.

She wriggled against him, her body begging his to touch her, to squeeze her flesh with his hands.

"Nuh-uh. You're in the bad books with me," he grinned at her cheekily.

"Fine!" her warm weight disappeared and he bit back a groan at its loss. She stood there in front of him, her cheeks stained red and her shirt half untucked from her skirt.

"Fine," she repeated, focussing a particularly mischievous look on her face which worried Daryl immediately.

"If you won't touch me you won't be able to do anything to stop me from touching you," she smirked. Before Daryl could even comprehend that roundabout sentence she dropped to her knees before him, her deft little fingers undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans in record time.

Oh shit.

His numb brain could only watch in awe as she yanked down his jeans, his dick springing free. The look on her face was something he would have to store in his memory for a very long time.

He let out a hiss as a small hand wrapped around his length firmly, stroking it smoothly.

Just the sight of Beth on her knees between his legs with her cute little ponytail and her rosebud lips so close to his arousal was enough to make him grit his teeth. And then it happened. He could do nothing but stare as Beth leant forward and licked him, from base to tip, with that tiny hot tongue of hers.

"I-is that okay?" she asked, anxiety lining her face at his reaction. He managed to produce some kind of reassuring sound which quickly turned into a rather unmanly squeak as without warning she had engulfed his entire length in her mouth.

"Holy fucking shit!" he grunted, concentrating on the exact feeling of his dick sliding against her tongue, the pressure of her mouth as she bobbed up and down. How this girl could suck a dick like a pro without any prior experience was a shock to Daryl, but he wasn't complaining. Somewhere in the furthest reaches of his mind he registered Beth's little moans and sighs as she went to work, her hand confidently pumping the part of his length that wouldn't fit in her mouth.

Daryl was all too aware that he hadn't received a blowjob in the last half a decade, and that the sight of this innocent angel deep-throating him like a pro while dressed like a high school fantasy and moaning his name was just too much.

She yelped in confusion when he yanked her backwards and pulled her onto his lap.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked nervously, biting her lip.

"No, it was too good. I couldn't control myself," he replied breathily

"But I wanted to... I wanted you to... come in my mouth," she gasped, rocking her hips into his out of habit.

"I will one day, but right now I need you Beth, please," he groaned before trailing his fingers up her skirt to pull aside her panties.

Except she wasn't wearing any.

"Where the fuck are your panties?" he grunted, his fingers finding only delicious wetness and heat between her thighs.

"Thought you might like it," she gasped as his fingers teased her entrance.

"That's very naughty of you," Daryl circled her clit once, twice, three times with his slick fingers, loving the way her hips arched towards his touch.

"Ah! Yes! You'll just have to spank me," she choked out.

Mother fucker. Those words alone were almost enough to finish him off. He bit down on his tongue so hard he tasted blood as his hands gripped her waist, slamming her hips down onto his and joining their bodies together.

Her head was thrown backwards as she let out a cry at the sensation, her hips rocking against his automatically. Her chest was at eye-level, that thin white shirt perfectly framing her hardened nipples as she rode him. He freed one hand from her hip to open the buttons on that blouse and wrap his arms around her hot little torso, squeezing her to his chest to allow leverage for him to meet each of her thrusts.

Before long he could feel her fingernails digging into his skin and the pitch of each moan becoming progressively louder, but he was far from finished with her yet. He stood up so quickly that blood rushed to his head. With Beth still undulating against him, he cleared the table with one hand. She barely flinched at the sound of their plates smashing on the floor as Daryl lay her down, pulling both legs up to rest over his shoulders.

Fuck, she looked good like this.

I mean, Daryl thought she looked good no matter how they were screwing, but for prim and proper Beth Greene to be spread wide on the kitchen table with a man pumping into her and her legs in the air was a whole new kind of beautiful.

"Oh, yes! Oh my God, that feels so good!" she whimpered. She liked being able to watch his face in this position, not to mention the way that her back rubbed against the unsealed wood of the table was both painful and erotic.

"You-mentioned-something-about-spanking," he groaned out, making the mistake of glancing down to where their bodies joined and catching a glimpse of his length pounding into her tight little body.

"Yes, yes, do it," she murmured. Her skirt was hiked up around her waist and her shirt lay open on either side of her body, permitting a view of her breasts jiggling up and down with every powerful thrust from Daryl.

That was all the encouragement Daryl needed to land a loud smack on the side of her ass, loving the way her pelvic floor contracted and hugged him all the more tighter inside of her body.

"Please, do it again. Please. I love it," her voice was throaty, full of desire and lust for the man between her thighs.

Another resounding smack landed on the opposite cheek, her body jolting off the table as she seized in pleasure.

"Oh fuck yes. You're gonna make me c-c-"

Another well-timed spank across the backside was all it took to send her over the edge, her body contracting and pulsing around his as she slowly came down from her high. Daryl was still slowly pumping in and out of her, holding both of her ankles in one hand as he gently caressed her pink bottom with the other.

"You okay?" he asked, forever a gentleman in times such as these. She nodded weakly before squeaking as his pace increased, fucking her with a primitive need. Her hands gripped the edge of the table above her head for leverage as she tried her best to thrust back against him.

God, he was so close. When she reached her hands back to brace herself against his thrusts he finally allowed himself to fall over that tumbling edge, pulling out of her wet folds just in time to unload all over her creamy quite stomach and breasts.

She gasped in shock at the warm sticky fluid coating her front, before realising what it was and allowing an overwhelming feeling of desire wash over her. _Talk about marking your territory_ she thought to herself.

She watched as Daryl caught his breath and swept his hair from his face, gazing down at her spreadeagled body with more than a little lust in his eyes. He watched uncertainly as her index finger swiped down her chest before returning to her lips, those perfect little rose petal lips sucking every drop of fluid off before that adorable pink tongue reached out to lick her lips. She moaned low in her throat.

"Next time you're letting me suck you until all of this," she gestured to her front, "ends up in my pretty little mouth," she finished, grinning at the awestruck look on Daryl's face at her comment.

"Uh, ok," was his reply, his mind still unable to comprehend the sultriness of this vixen before him.

She slid neatly off the table, shimmying her skirt down her legs and throwing it into the corner along with her blouse.

"Are you gonna join me in the shower or what?" she glanced back over her shoulder teasingly before ascending the stairs.

Daryl Dixon was sure of only one thing as his eyes skimmed over the broken plates, the clothes thrown carelessly in the corner and the sight of her perfect ass disappearing around the corner.

He was in love.


	4. Chapter 4

Beth took a deep breath, her stomach turning at the idea of what she was about to do. Her eyes were surveying the woods from the front porch of the funeral home, her brow furrowed in concentration as she searched for any sign of walkers. Her arm was aching from the weight of the crossbow, her finger twitched on the trigger at the slightest movement. Besides her feet lay a backpack filled with knives and the rest of their ammunition. Her wary ears caught the sound of a lone magpie warbling in the distance.

She let out a sigh of relief as she lowered the crossbow, her free hand reaching up to rub at the fatigued muscles of her bicep.

"Anything out there?" Daryl appeared behind her, closing the door quietly.

"Nope. It's just us for now," she replied. Daryl had to hold back a snort of laughter at the sight of little Beth holding his crossbow. It seemed to be as big as her. He knew for a fact that she couldn't have been much heavier.

"That's good, means we've got time," he glanced up at the sunrise and the way in which the sky was softly illuminated in the earliest rays of light.

"It's peaceful, isn't it," Beth sighed, a sad smile curling the edge of her lips. Daryl grunted in agreement.

"Sometimes I look up at the sky and I forget about all the bad things that are happening under it." Beth blinked, hoping to disperse the tears that had formed at memories that felt ancient and otherworldly, of her and Maggie laying on their backs at sunset in the long grass holding hands and making funny shapes out of the clouds.

Daryl glanced at her and saw her eyes glistening as she continued to look heavenward.

"It's the only beautiful thing left in the world," she whispered.

Daryl stepped towards her, pulling her into his warm embrace and feeling the wetness of her tears soak through his shirt.

"Except for you, Beth," he kissed the top of her head tenderly. He heard her muffled laughter as she pulled away from his embrace.

"I don't want to cry," she sniffed, wiping at her eyes and stamping an artificial smile on her face.

"What I really want is new clothes," she added, looking down at her figure.

Although Beth had become accustomed to living on rations for the last four years, she had finally reached her breaking point. It didn't help matters that every time she found a new item of clothing in a run, Daryl would quickly rip it off her body during a lust-fuelled make-out session within a few hours of putting it on.

"Well what a coincidence. Hopefully we can find more than tinned peaches and beans. I'm pretty sure we passed some kind of shopping mall on the way up here. There's at least three convenience stores and a department store on the complex, so there must be some stuff left to take," Daryl relieved Beth of his crossbow and reached into the backpack to hand her a knife.

"I wanna be back by noon," he glanced up at the rising sun.

"Well let's go then!" Beth set off ahead of him, her pace steady on her newly healed ankle.

"Don't leave my sight, you hear me?" Daryl called after her. His commands were simply ignored as she turned back to roll her eyes dramatically at him.

Together, they set off into the woods. They were lucky enough to only encounter a few straggling walkers who were either too decomposed or too incapacitated to prove much of a threat. Beth still look pleasure in ramming her blade into their skulls as she passed by. Daryl was quite impressed by her newfound skills in killing walkers.

"Oh my God, it's massive!" he heard her gasp as they reached the edge of the forest. Peeking through the trees with his crossbow at the ready, he saw the shopping complex come into view. It appeared in surprisingly good condition, and was devoid of all life; both human, and walker.

They approached cautiously, weapons drawn. There were chains on the doors, obviously it had been used as a shelter at the beginning of the outbreak but had since been abandoned. Beth made her way around to a service entry and found an unlocked door.

As usual, Daryl went first down the unlit corridor until he found the exit door at the end which opened into the middle of a convenience store. His arm shot out automatically as Beth came up behind him. He let out a piercing whistle, slamming his crossbow against the metal bar of the exit door before waiting in silence.

Beth held her breath, knife ready, eyes darting anxiously around the aisles.

Nothing.

No moans, no scratching, no walkers.

Beth sighed, heading to the first aisle before realising that Daryl was following her closely.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Following you!" he mouthed back silently.

"Don't you think we'd be out of here faster if you helped?" she replied. His brow furrowed at the idea of leaving her unattended in an unfamiliar environment.

"Please, Daryl, I'll call for you if I need you. I promise," she whispered, ensuring that she used her most endearing puppy-dog eyes to plead for her independence.

"Fine. But if I hear anything, I'll be here in seconds, okay?" he complied before heading into the next aisle.

Beth worked quickly, scanning each aisle and retrieving any remaining stock from the shelves.

Soup, canned fruit, beans, tissues, blankets, towels, batteries, bandages, tape, plastic containers, cornflakes, water purifier tablets, soap, needles and thread, garbage bags, a backpack that had been discarded on the floor, noodles and a bag of rice.

She stopped at the drugstore aisle in front of a display of condoms. She seemed almost foolish for looking at them, the young virginal girl that she used to be scolded her for appraising the boxes. She ripped one open and pulled out a foil packet only to sigh with disappointment. Expired. What did she expect? Condoms most certainly did expire, especially in the four years it had been since Trojan had produced them.

Shrugging, she swept all of the remaining boxes into the bag she was carrying. Surely an expired condom was better than no condom at all? The evolutionary component of her brain laughed at her for worrying about contraception in a time where she was biologically depended upon to repopulate the world, but her mind lingered on the memory of Lori and that was enough to steel her resolve.

"You finished?" a familiar voice called from aisle 12.

"Yeah, you?" she called back.

Daryl's face appeared around the corner of the aisle wearing a broad grin.

"You'll never guess what I found, there's- fucking hell!" he glanced down at the bag full of condoms she was shouldering protectively.

"What? You saw what happened to Lori and I-"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. But 16 boxes? How much sex are you planning on having?" he smiled down at her flushed cheeks.

"Just about as much as I can get from an old man like you," Beth quipped before standing on her tippy toes to kiss him chastely on the lips.

"Oh, you're going to pay for that later," he groaned as she pulled away.

"Good. I can't wait for my punishment," she winked.

"So you never did tell me what you'd found." Her hands were resting lightly on the front of Daryl's shirt, tracing small but very ticklish circles through the fabric.

"Chocolate. I found chocolate bars, I thought you might like them," Daryl choked out, suddenly very much aware of the fact that they were all alone.

"Yum," Beth bit her lower lip deliciously. "Maybe you can eat it off my body tonight," she teased before she took off ahead of him and disappeared into the next aisle.

Daryl quickly readjusted the aching hardness that had recently developed within the confines of his jeans before heading after her.

"Did you get everything we need?" she called. He could hear her footsteps in the aisle next to him.

"Pretty much. It would be nice if we found somewhere with clothes," Daryl added.

"Well it's a good thing we're in a mall, silly. Come here!" she called. He found her standing at the door of the convenience store, which opened into the main court of the mall. He peered out carefully, his eyes trying to pinpoint movement.

"Oh, look!" Beth's voice chirped like a baby bird at her discovery. She was pointing a dainty finger towards a department store less than 200 yards away.

"Alright, let's hurry while it's quiet," Daryl carefully pushed the squeaky glass door open, his heart pounding as his ears strained to hear any warning signs of approaching walkers. Silence.

"Keep quiet and stay behind me," he instructed as they inched their way cautiously towards the store entrance. It was closed but unlocked, and after an initial sweep they only found two dead walkers and a lot of blood behind the counter in womenswear.

"Same rules apply, okay? Yell if you need me. When you're done, meet me at that exit door okay?" he took off immediately.

Beth took her time wandering through the racks of women's clothes. Many of the mannequins were overturned and broken, a hollow plastic head lay on the floor surrounded by assorted plastic limbs. Beth hadn't enjoyed the privilege of browsing through a store for longer than she liked to think. Even before the outbreak she'd never been much of a shopper. But she found herself enjoying the selection of clothes and shoes, more often than not stopping in front of a delicate flowered blouse or a short fitted dress before remembering that these clothes were no longer practical.

Before long Beth had accumulated a handful of apocalypse-appropriate attire: plain t-shirts, pullovers, jumpers, jeans, thick socks, and a pair of knitted gloves. She couldn't resist adding a wooden hairbrush to her bag along with a few new pairs of boots that weren't covered in walker juice like her own.

She forgot for a short moment of the world in which she was living. She felt like every teenage girl should, grabbing articles of clothing freely, enjoying the peace of the silent store and the sound her boots made as they clicked on the tiles. Then she caught sight of her reflection in a full-length mirror. Her hair was knotted, she had a smudge of dirt down her cheek and her shirt was dirty and frayed at the edges.

Shaking her head, she turned to find Daryl before noticing that she was standing in the women's lingerie section. Sure enough, underwear was simply something else she required. Although she felt that Daryl would not object to a no-underwear rule, she could hardly resist the free smorgasbord that lay before her.

Her mind could barely register the variety of lingerie before her naïve eyes. Bustiers, corsets, strapless, lace, silk… the possibilities were endless. Beth picked out the most appropriate ones first. Comfortable, practical, easy to wash, long-wearing, resistant to walker goo. She was satisfied with her collection until she spotted something she couldn't turn away from. Hung haphazardly at the end of an aisle was the most beautiful black lingerie set that Beth had ever seen. She grabbed it, shoving all of her loot into the backpack which she had to struggle to zip closed.

"Okay, I'm done. Where are you? Do you need me to help you?" Daryl's voice called out from somewhere in her vicinity.

"I'm done! Two seconds, let me just get my backpack on!" she replied, quickly shuffling away from the lingerie aisle towards Daryl who was waiting patiently by the exit door.

"Did you find clothes?" she asked.

"Yep. Got enough to last a lifetime now," he gestured to his backpack.

"Come on, girl. It's getting late now," he raised his crossbow in preparation and levered open the exit door, spilling afternoon sunlight into the dark store.

They had made it to the main road when Beth head the first moan. Her hand gripped Daryl's forearm painfully hard causing him to spin around in confusion as Beth stared at the corpse advancing towards them.

"It's a loner, Beth, just pick up the pace," Daryl grunted.

"No. Daryl. Look," Daryl turned just in time to see that the 'lone' walker was by no means alone. Now a few yards behind it stumbled ten more walkers, their noses raised to the wind as they caught scent of Daryl and Beth.

"Run." Daryl's jaw was set in determination as he grabbed Beth around her waist, pushing her towards the forest.

"I'm not leav-"

"Go! Into the trees. NOW!" he roared so loudly that Beth froze in fear before she decided to listen to him for the first time in her life. She took off, praying that she would hear his footsteps behind her.

Gunshots in the distance. Since when did they have a gun? Her heart pounded to the beat of her boots on the hardened dirt floor of the woods.

Daryl's voice was behind her, running to catch up with her, pleading for her to keep running. The straps from her backpack cut painfully into the flesh of her shoulders and she immediately regretted her decision to take so much. She contemplated ditching her bag, but knew that the entire day would be a waste if she did.

"Daryl! Are you still there?" she called back, too scared to turn around.

"Keep running, Beth. Don't stop!" his voice was distant. She heard another round of gunshots, the shriek of a walker going down, Daryl cursing.

Branches from trees scratched at her face as she pushed herself forward. The malnourished muscles in her legs begged her to stop, to rest, to give up. Her lungs screamed for oxygen as she struggled to suck in the dry air. Her feet felt heavy, like dead weights, and her head started spinning as her heart pummelled faster and faster in her chest.

Daryl's voice was no longer behind her. All she could hear apart from the sounds of her own desperation was the low moans and gasps of the walkers as they tracked her.

She broke into the clearing of the funeral home, whipping around to face the forest with her knife drawn. One walker emerged from the darkness, limping towards her on broken ankles. Easy prey for Beth. It dropped to the ground beside her, twitching momentarily.

The next walker was bigger and it lunged at her viciously, its arms outreached and grabbing at any part of her it could find. She plunged her knife into the soft flesh underneath its chin, feeling the knife slide through the rotting brain matter.

Two down. How many more were there? Beth fell backwards onto the ground, her breath shuddering in and out of her chest. Stars were flashing in front of her eyes as her brain slowly recovered from its earlier oxygen deprivation.

Another figure was emerging from the forest before her, blurry before her unfocussed eyes. She tentatively tried to push herself up onto her feet but failed, lactic acid rendering her legs useless. She pulled herself backwards, shuffling away from the advancing figure. Her hand let go of the knife, accepting that she couldn't fight any longer. She could only stare up at the figure, stunned, hoping that her death would be quick. Her eyes screwed shut and she pictured her sister, her father, her mother, her brother, her Daryl.

"Beth?" a familiar voice called her name. Beth was not entirely sure if this was a dream, if Daryl had come to take her to heaven now that they were both gone from this world.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and shook her roughly.

"Fuck, are you okay? Beth?"

She opened her eyes slowly, her brain not quite trusting the image that was in front of her.

Daryl stood before her, his crossbow laying at his feet and covered in walker blood. There was a revolver sticking out of the waistband of his jeans and a bloody knife tucked through a belt loop in his pants.

Beth's arms reached out uncertainly, trying to determine whether he was man or ghost.

"Can you stand?" his very human-feeling hands gripped each of hers, pulling her up until she was able to stare at his face.

"Daryl?" she croaked, her voice hoarse with emotion.

"Hey," he whispered soothingly, brushing her hair out of her face with a hand.

That was when the sobs started. They tore through her body as she clutched his body against hers desperately, burying her face in the material of his shirt and catching the scent of sweat, walker blood and Daryl. They stayed this way for a while, standing in the front yard of the funeral yard wrapped in each other's embrace as she sobbed pitifully.

"Are you bit?" she finally choked out, realising that he was covered in blood. Her hands ran over his body searching for bite marks, scratches, anything.

"Oh, Daryl, you're bleeding," she murmured, finding a long slash in the leg of his jeans.

"It wasn't walkers, I cut it on a stupid fucking branch," he whispered, an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion finally sweeping over him.

"I should clean you up before it gets infected," she pulled away from him to head towards the front door, however her hand remained firmly inside his. As soon as the resounding thunk of the wooden door closed behind them Daryl collapsed into a kitchen chair.

"Let me see!" Beth ripped the side of his jeans open to appraise the damage. It wasn't too deep, but was bleeding profusely. She knew enough from their time on the farm that if she didn't clean and stitch this up, an infection was inevitable.

She started rummaging through her backpack muttering to herself before pulling out a packet of needles and a spool of thread she had taken from the convenience store.

Daryl immediately gritted his teeth at the thought of her sewing up his wound.

"What are you doing with that?" he asked warily, eyeing her up.

"I'm sorry, but I have to sew this up," she looked apologetically up at him.

"Beth, it ain't even that deep. I'm fine, it doesn't even hurt," he made to stand up before she shoved him back into the chair with surprising strength.

"I don't care if it doesn't hurt. Let me stitch up your leg, or die of a staph infection. Your choice!" her shaking fingers began threading the needle. Daryl fished around in his pocket for a lighter, watching Beth's furrowed brow as she held the small flame to the tip of the needle.

"This ain't gonna feel too good, will it?" Daryl grabbed the side of the chair, squeezing until his knuckles went white.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry," Beth mumbled before sliding the needle through his skin. What poured out of Daryl's mouth was perhaps the most inventive and insulting string of cuss words that had ever been spoken.

The cut was relatively short, and only required her to pass through his skin with the needle a total of 15 times. Daryl would believe that those three anxious minutes felt like a year.

Beth gently wiped away the blood from the stiches, admiring her masterpiece with a little guilty pride. She'd always wanted to be a doctor after all.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Course I am. I'm pretty tough in case you hadn't noticed yet," Daryl grimaced, watching her walk to the sink to rinse the blood from her hands.

"I know you are," her voice trembled, on the verge of tears once more.

"Come on, Beth, please. Don't cry. I'm fine, I promise," Daryl smiled half-heartedly at her trembling back, hearing her sniff daintily.

Slowly she turned to face him. He could see the tear-tracks on her face and the way in which her bottom lip trembled with emotion. His arms reached out to her, an unspoken invitation. She wasted no time in climbing onto his lap, wiping at her tears before burying her face in the crook of his neck. She could hear his pulse this way. She could feel the life within him. His arms wrapped tight around her body, squeezing her into his warmth.

"I thought I'd lost you today," she whispered. His hand cupped her face, pulling her from the hidden comfort of his shoulder to fix her with a piercing gaze.

"You didn't, Beth. I'm right here," he replied, bringing their lips together.

"But- I thought I'd lost you, and I gave up. I just gave up. I wanted to die," she pulled away, a tiny wrinkle on her forehead deepening.

"Ssh, Beth. You don't need to explain anything to me," his hand on the side of her face guided her back to his lips once more. Their kisses were soft, gentle, and tentative. She sighed into the kiss, her little fingers tugging on the hair at the base of his neck, her body pushing itself instinctually closer to his. Suddenly, she pulled away.

"Can we go to bed?" she murmured.

"Nothing sounds better to me, I'm beat," Daryl stood, testing out the pain in his leg. Minimal. That was good news.

"Come on, I'll race you," he grinned, heading for the stairs. Beth followed closely behind him, he could hear the little hiccups and gulps she made as she tried to overcome her emotions.

It was sheer relief to slide off his boots, his blood-covered clothing was kicked to a shadowy corner of the room as he set down his crossbow by the bedside table, silently thanking the heavens for its presence earlier that day. The thought that he had been so close to the edge, so close to leaving that beautiful angel all alone in an apocalyptic world frightened him more than he'd have liked to admit.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she pulled her hair out of its braid, pulling out stray twigs with her fingers as she combed through it. Her eyes looked red from her tears, her lips swollen from her anxious gnawing. She'd never looked so beautiful to him. She pulled back the blanket from the bed and climbed in so gracefully, pouting up at him until he slid in beside her.

She immediately curled into his arms, their legs intertwining and her head resting over the steady drumming of his heart. Her head tilted up, those perfect lips seeking his out with little trouble. She sighed, her body melting into his as he squeezed her closer, one hand tangling in her unruly hair.

He pulled away, finally, for lack of oxygen to his brain. Goddamn, the way she looked up at him, almost pleading with those long Bambi lashes. He'd never grow tired of this woman.

"Go to sleep," she whispered, pressing soft kisses on his collarbone.

"I will. I'm just enjoying this," he smiled, flexing his arms around her body.

"Mmm, I never want you to let me go," she breathed, her eyes closing as the exhaustion overtook her.

"I won't," he murmured in response, feeling her breathing grow softer as she drifted off to sleep.

He admired her that way for a short while, her hair splayed over his chest, her chest gently rising and falling with each breath. He savoured these moments of peace. In a world like this, you simply had to.

"I love you."

The words escaped his lips before his brain even registered them.

Daryl certainly hadn't used those words before. Not even to his family. But then again, he'd never felt about anyone else the way he felt about Beth. He'd accepted that he was incapable of love and then she'd come along with her silly braid, her stubborn attitude and her scarred wrists and mesmerised him. He'd surely never known someone so pure of heart, so kind, so unconditionally loving. He'd sure as hell never felt so protective of another human. His desire for Beth was no longer a want, but a need.

"I know you love me, Daryl Dixon." A short, sweet whisper in the dark shook Daryl from his thoughts. He felt her hot breath tickling his chest as she spoke.

"You heard me?" he grunted, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable.

"Yes. I'm the only girl you're ever gonna love," she murmured into his skin, moaning softly as he squeezed her even tighter against his body.

"I'm okay with that," he replied, his voice drifting off into sleep. He loved their closeness, their bodies so intertwined that Daryl felt like they were one. He felt safe knowing that she was there with him, encased in the iron fetters of his arms for one more night.


	5. Chapter 5

Beth woke up slowly, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light of the bedroom. It registered in the back of her drowsy mind that it was most likely late in the evening considering they both feel into bed so early after that horde of walkers.

Oh.

The memories came flooding back, sending her nervous system firing those painful emotions of running, Daryl's voice disappearing behind her in the woods, the growls of the walkers as they lunged at her.

Beth squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to focus on the present instead of the past. After all, there was no point in worrying about Daryl when he was so obviously pressed into her back, his arm slung protectively around her waist and his hand splayed over her tummy while he slept. Every now and then a soft snore would escape him which Beth found completely adorable. The revelled in his hot embrace for a few minutes more, accepting that nothing would ever feel so comforting or lovely then-

Lovely.

Love.

Oh.

Daryl's voice, a mere whisper in her subconscious as she had drifted off to sleep earlier that day.

"I love you."

Beth grinned like the Cheshire cat. Daryl Dixon loved her so much he'd actually spoken the damn words aloud. Of course, she always knew that he did care for her. But to hear those three words escape the mouth of a man who prided himself in his hardened exterior the words were a release. He'd finally opened up to her in the most intimate way he knew how. Oh, this man loved her.

She turned to face him, his face looking completely innocent in sleep. She planted a soft kiss on his forehead, pushing his hair back from his face to admire him properly. He'd never looked so peaceful. She lifted the sheet quickly to examine the stiches in his shin. They looked good. No swelling and minimal redness, a sure sign that he wouldn't be struck down by a rare strain of MRSA.

She finally shuffled awkwardly out of his vice-like grip around her body, sliding out of bed rather ungracefully and landing with a soft thump on the floor. Straightening up and praying that he hadn't seen her utter clumsiness she quickly busied herself with dumping their dirty clothes in the laundry sink, sorting through the backpacks from yesterday and unpacking the goods they had taken.

When she had organised the small kitchen she set off upstairs, heading towards the bathroom and standing under the spray of lukewarm water, feeling the dirt and walker blood and sweat flow down the drain. She relished the sensation of lathering up her hair with shampoo, the scent of vanilla filling the bathroom as she scrubbed at her skin and her face. Beth no longer took the feeling of being clean for granted.

Drying off quickly she tiptoed past the bedroom door, hearing Daryl's snores as she snatched up her backpack which only had one item left in it: the black lacy underwear. Shrugging, she pulled it on before covering herself with one of Daryl's plaid shirts. Beth had a feeling he would enjoy that.

She headed downstairs once more, making a bit more of a racket than required in an effort to rouse Daryl from his slumber. Sure enough, she soon heard his footsteps on the upstairs landing and the sound of the shower turning on and off.

She pottered around the kitchen for a while, pouring a tetra pack of orange juice over their cornflakes instead of milk. She had just raised the carton of juice up to the late afternoon sunlight to try and find an expiry date when a pair of arms grabbed her forcefully around the waist, pulling her backwards against a very warm and very hard body.

She let out a squeak of shock before her brain registered that it was only Daryl.

"You scared me," she giggled, trying to turn around in his arms but finding that he was holding her too firmly.

"What-have-I-told-you about wearing my shirts?" his voice rumbled into her ear, causing goose bumps to rise up on the skin of her neck.

"Sorry!" she tried to sound seductive but in all honesty, her half-arsed apology came out breathy and weak.

One hand travelled up from its grip on her waist to slide up the front of her body, pausing to palm her right breast almost reverently through the fabric. Her head fell backwards onto Daryl's shoulder at the contact.

"You smell so fucking sweet," the tip of his nose tickled the side of her neck as he inhaled the scent of vanilla from her skin.

She exhaled forcefully, loving the sensation of his hands on her skin, squeezing her flesh, pulling her against his form.

"Are you mad at me?" she managed to choke out.

"For wearing my shirt? A little bit," he growled, his other hand moving down her body to the skin of her exposed thighs, tracing patterns on the oversensitive skin but carefully avoiding the area she needed him to touch the most.

"M-maybe you should take it off?" she moaned as his hand traced dangerously close to the line of her panties. She pushed her bottom backwards, desperately aching for contact. She felt the familiar bulge pressing into the small of her back and gasped, feeling her panties suddenly becoming uncomfortably wet at the sensation of his desire pushed up against her.

"Maybe I will."

She took advantage of his loosened grip to swing around to face him as his hands started working on the buttons of his shirt. She'd only taken the time to close three of them, and the look on his face as he impatiently pushed the shirt out of the way and saw what was underneath was an expression she would store in her memory forever.

"Fucking hell," he breathed, his eyes raking over that black lingerie set. From the way that it contrasted against the endless creamy flawless skin below it, to the way her breasts were heaving inside the flimsy black material, to the incredibly visible wet patch growing between her legs.

Daryl gulped audibly, torn between sweeping her up in his arms and making love to her upstairs and pulling those panties to the side and fucking her senseless a few feet from their bowls of cornflakes.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, biting at her lower lip reflexively as she gazed up into this eyes.

"Should we go upstairs?" he asked, glancing towards the staircase and trying to mentally calculate how much time would be lost in physically moving to another room.

Her sweet laughter filled the kitchen. She stood on her tiptoes before whispering into his ear.

"I don't want you to make love to me, Daryl. I want to be fucked."

He cleared his throat, not really believing the request escaping her pretty little mouth.

"You sure, darlin'?" he gazed down at her pretty blue eyes, her fluttering lashes, her swollen lips.

"Please, Daryl. Please," the tip of her pink tongue poked out to lick at her lips.

Oh. She was begging him. Beth Greene was standing in the kitchen in the tiniest pair of panties he'd ever seen, begging to be fucked by him. It was all the encouragement that Daryl needed.

His lips crashed down onto hers without warning, his hands moving once more to her waist as he lifted her up to sit on the edge of the counter. She was making all of his favourite sounds once more, those little moans as his tongue stroked against hers rhythmically.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling his erection against her dripping wet centre with an unladylike moan. He hurried to pull his shirt over his head, throwing it behind him and growling low in his throat as Beth pulled him closer, her soft skin sliding against his as her fingers fumbled with his zip.

His erection sprung free from his jeans and rubbed deliciously against the wet crotch of her panties. She was mewling, her hips undulating against his, desperate to be one – to join their bodies together once more.

"Daryl... please, stop teasing me," she gasped as his hands stilled her hips from thrusting against him.

"Not yet, baby," he murmured, pulling back from her hungry mouth and disappearing from Beth's view. She was just about to enquire as to what had possessed him to stop kissing her with that lustful ferocity when all meaningful vocabulary momentarily fled her mind.

"Oh, fuck!" her back arched and her head flew backwards so suddenly she almost hit the wall.

Daryl's hot mouth directly where she needed it most, those ridiculous panties pulled to the side as his tongue swirled around her clit dangerously fast. The sensation of his tongue sliding between her folds was almost too much, her hands sliding through his hair as her hips bucked uncontrollably against his mouth.

He could almost smell her imminent orgasm, waves of lust rolling over him as he felt her legs start to shake under his hands. Her fingers tugged at his hair as she held him against her. She was still moaning, with small incoherent phrases escaping her mouth as she drew closer and closer to her orgasm.

"Oh my God, right there, yes! Don't stop, I'm so c-cl-"

Daryl took the opportunity to slide two fingers into her wet heat, curling them upwards as he flicked at her clit with his tongue, finding that patch of nerves inside of her body and pushing up hard.

She screamed out his name, her thighs tensing up as her hips bucked against him freely, riding out her orgasm.

The moment she had stopped convulsing, he straightened up with an incredibly mischevious grin on his face.

He wasted no time in pulling her down from the counter and turning her away from him once more. He managed to unclasp that black bra with ease, his hands pushing the fabric out of the way to cup her breasts, kneading the flesh firmly and revelling in the sighs she made.

"You're so fucking perfect, do you know that?" he breathed, overcome with emotion for the woman he was about to fuck the living daylights out of.

"Hmm, shut up and make me come again," she murmured, bending forwards over the counter in invitation before looking over her shoulder, winking playfully at him.

"How you do want it?" he groaned at the expression on that angelic face, his hand reaching down to stroke his length and calm his raging need to just ram it into her.

"Rough," she whispered.

"You're always so gentle with me, like I'm gonna break. Maybe I want you to use me a little."

Daryl's eyes almost rolled into the back of his head as he tried his hardest to maintain in control of the situation. Although he knew he would never be able to hurt the angel before him, he was more than capable of a little bit of rough loving. After all, it's the only experience he had.

"I might be able to do that," he grunted, the tip of his dick grazing against her heat.

Oh fuck.

She squealed as he thrust into her welcoming heat, revelling in the sensation of those tight wet walls squeezing his length so deliciously. He pumped in and out of her slowly at first, simply enjoying the intimacy of being buried deep inside of her little body. His hands went to her waist to prevent her from pushing back onto him, Daryl wanted to be completely in control of this.

"Don't hold back, I can take it," she moaned, peeking back at him.

"I'm looking for something," he murmured, one hand lightly squeezing the flesh of her backside as his eyes darted over the kitchen counter.

Aha.

Cable ties.

The open packet lay by Beth's head, and he leant over her to grab one. The movement caused his length to push so far into her body that she let out a gasp as he hit the sensitive bump of her cervix.

Beth froze beneath him, his ministrations stopped completely. After all, he had no way of knowing whether that gasp was in pleasure or pain.

"Did I hurt you?" he finally offered considering she was yet to comment on the sensation.

She shook her head, her perfect little teeth gnawing at her bottom lip.

"No, it didn't hurt, it was just...erotic, I think," her breath hiccupped as he pulled out once more to thrust in to the hilt, bumping her cervix once more. Daryl could certainly empathise. For him, it only served to fulfil his desire as a man to believe that he was well-endowed, while also reminding him of how small Beth truly was in comparison to him. And although Daryl would never openly admit this to anyone for fear of being judged as a pervert, Beth's tiny frame and childlike innocence was what he found so attractive, so seductive, so irresistible.

"Oh, yes, like that, you feel so- what are you doing?" her eyed opened at the sight of Daryl threading a cable tie around her wrists which were laying on the counter by her head.

"Something different, I hope you like it," he grinned devilishly. He straightened up behind her.

"Are you ready?" he asked, landing a spank on the side of her arse and feeling her body tense around his. She nodded frantically, unsure of what was about to come.

"Keep your hands against that wall in front of you, you're going to need to brace yourself," he stated quite matter-of-factly before seizing a handful of the lacy material of her panties on either side of her hips and using it to slingshot her pelvis back against his.

"Oh fuck!" he heard her cry at the unexpected sensation of being rammed into from behind.

He choked back a groan as his length pounded into her body. He could already see imprints appearing on her hips from where his fingers dug painfully into her flesh and felt a sick sense of pride that he was marking her in this way, that he would be able to look at her for the next few weeks and remember this moment.

"Oh my god, you feel so good inside me," he heard her voice, high pitched and mewling, her pupils dilated with lust as she glanced over her shoulder at his face.

"You're mine," he grunted, taking a little too much pride in the flicker of pain that crossed her face as he pounded into her harder, unsure of how much longer he could last when she was watching him like that. Her eyes glazed over a little at his words.

"Yes, I'm all yours," she moaned, wishing her hands were free so she could reach back and touch him. The sensations coursing through her own body were so intense she wasn't sure whether she was going to come or explode. The cable ties cut painfully into the skin of her wrists, abrasive against the ever-present scars she'd inflicted years earlier. Her hip bones were being rammed punishingly hard into the edge of the counter with every thrust and the pain mingled instantly with the pleasure building between her thighs.

"Holy shit," his eyes squeezed shut, his brain employing every ounce of willpower within his entire body to not explode inside of that perfect little body bent over in front of him despite her moans and pleads.

Fuck, she was making it hard for him. Starved for options, he reached one hand from its earlier position on her hip to slide between her legs and begin flicking at the oversensitive bud at her core between every powerful thrust. Immediately, her legs began shaking and her inner walls clamped down around his length.

"Oh my god, yes, right there," he watched in amazement as her face screwed up, her teeth sinking into the skin of her own forearm to stifle the sobbing cries of pleasure from escaping her mouth as her entire body shuddered helplessly.

He waited patiently for her body to calm down, one hand reaching down to squeeze his aching balls, the pressure slightly easing.

Beth sighed in disappointment as she felt him slip out of her body. He hadn't finished, and she had quite enjoyed the feeling of being handled so roughly.

"Daryl, you didn't-" she turned to argue with him but his hand clamped over her mouth, effectively silencing her.

"I know. I remembered you saying something yesterday and thought you might like to do the honours?" he winked at her before pushing her backwards just gently enough that she fell to her knees before him, her eyes widening at the prospect of what was about to happen.

She gazed up at him, gnawing on that bottom lip of hers in that unconsciously sexy way of hers, waiting for directions. Her hands were still cable tied in front of her, and the sight of Daryl standing naked in front of her with his dick just inches from her hungry little mouth was almost too good to be true.

"I have a request," she appraised his length, trying to decide which angle to approach from.

"What?" he hissed at the sensation of her hot breath on his aching member.

"I want you to pull my hair," she blinked innocently up at him before leaning forward and engulfing his length in her mouth.

Holy mother of fucking shit, what had Daryl gotten himself into? The tables had turned within a millisecond. He was no longer in control of anything, Beth had taken the reigns (quite literally) as she bobbed her head up and down his member expertly. Daryl was quite thankful for her request, as he couldn't stop himself from gathering that long hair into his fist and thrusting into her mouth, feeling his head slide against the back of her throat.

She was moaning once more, and Daryl glanced down long enough to notice that her cable-tied hands rested between her legs.

He wasn't sure of how many minutes Beth pleasured him on her knees, but he was willing to bet that it wasn't long at all.

"Beth, fuck, I'm about to c-, you should stop if you don't wanna-" he gritted his teeth. Beth let out an appreciate sound as she bobbed faster, her eyes flickering up to his hungrily as she watched him lose control before her.

Daryl's grip on her hair tightened as he reached his release, his pumping slowed as he spilled into her mouth. He wasn't at all sure of what her reaction to his offering would be, and was a little impressed as she swallowed each drop without wincing, her tongue lightly flicking up his length before she sat back on her heels, grinning proudly.

"Thank you," she smiled up at him from the floor.

"You're welcome?" he replied, unsure of the appropriate response to provide a woman who'd just thanked him for coming in her mouth.

She giggled at his awkwardness as he pulled her up so quickly that her feet momentarily left the ground.

"It's just that I've only ever done that with you and I didn't know if I'd be any good at it," she flushed.

"I can reassure you that you are by far the best I've ever had," he cut her off, leaning down to plant a kiss on the corner of her lips.

She flushed an even deeper shade of red at his words. He reached over to the counter to grab a knife, slicing open the cable ties around her wrists in one swift upwards motion.

"That was fun, by the way," she rubbed at her wrists. "I liked feeling that way. Kind of helpless, you know? Like you could do anything you wanted to me and I wouldn't be able to stop you," she stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around Daryl's neck, nuzzling her face into his chest.

"I think I want you to tie me up more often," she added, smiling to herself as she heard his heartbeat accelerate through his skin.

"I'll remember that," he smirked.

Her hands ghosted over the flesh of her hips, wincing at the tender points where she was sure bruises would appear.

"Did I hurt you?" Daryl's brow furrowed at the expression on her face.

"No, I want it to bruise. I like seeing the evidence that you own me."

Daryl swallowed hard, unsure of what he had turned this girl into. How could she transition so quickly between a shy, innocent angel and a sex-crazed vixen who begged for him to bruise her porcelain skin while he took her from behind?

"Beth Greene, you are unlike any woman I've ever met," he exclaimed in wonder, kissing her forehead.

"Well you made me this way, Daryl Dixon."


	6. Chapter 6

Well he'd really fucked up now.

Daryl's fingers raked through his unruly hair, the pain in his scalp a sweet release from the inner turmoil that poisoned him.

What had he done?

It had started so innocently.

She sat between his legs at the kitchen table earlier that evening, smearing an antibiotic cream she had found in their first aid kit over the healing sutures on his shin. She sang softly as her fingers brushed over his skin, some vague song about stars and seasons and love. Her voice was beautiful, easing Daryl's discomfort at the slight sting of his leg.

"All done. It's healed now, but I don't want to take any chances with you," she wrapped a clean bandage around the scar, placing a soft kiss below his knee as she did so.

"Thanks," he grumbled, thankful that her prodding fingers had finished their assault of his wound. As manly as he was, he was still forced to clench his fists at the sting of the cream.

"What would you do without me?" she teased playfully, straddling him in the kitchen chair and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her warm weight felt so good in his arms. When there were only a handful of people left living in the world, Daryl never took the overwhelming sensation of holding someone warm and alive close to him for granted.

"I hate to think," he replied honestly. These days her angelic face was the only thing stopping him from giving up completely.

"Well I'm not planning on going anywhere without you," she cupped his face in her hands, drawing his lips towards hers at a slow and torturous pace. Her lips ghosted over his, tentatively, teasingly. Daryl could hear the soft sigh she let out at the contact, and his arms tightened around her instinctively.

"I love you," she breathed, her hands moving from his face down his sides, sliding up under the material of his shirt to feel his skin under her fingertips.

Daryl was not prepared for the sensation of her tiny hands grazing over his back. His scars. An overwhelming feeling of nausea overwhelmed him at the thought that she could feel them, a roadmap of terror and pain etched permanently into his skin.

"Stop," he grunted, his hands moving to her waist to push her away.

"No," she mewled into his ear. She was completely oblivious to the angst that wrenched inside of him with every second that her hands remained on him.

"Beth, don't." His voice was a low growl against her skin, but her hands continued their journey upwards, uncovering a whole new battlefield of scars that spread between his shoulder blades.

"What's your problem?" she murmured, following each scar on its path across his skin.

His reaction was unexpected and sudden.

Beth flew backwards, landing hard on her wrists as she fell to the floor in front of him. She glared up at him, shock and fear running through her veins at this behaviour. Pain radiated up her arms, a cry escaping her lips as she moved to clutch at her wrists.

"What was that for?" her voice was broken, confused, rejected.

"I'm sorry." His apology seemed sincere enough, and the look on his face seemed to relay the hate he had for himself at this moment.

He stood quickly, moving to pull Beth off the floor, but she shied away from his touch.

Fear.

"Beth, I didn't mean to. I told you to stop!" he tried, his arms extended towards her retreating frame.

Her arms crossed protectively across her chest as she took one step backwards for every forwards step from Daryl.

"Beth, I never meant to hurt you, I promise. I just lost control," his voice was calmer, pleading almost.

She shook her head, turning on her heel to leave the kitchen.

"Beth, for fuck sake, just listen to me!" his hand gripped the top of her arm to spin her around, pinning her against the wall.

"Is it because of your scars?" she asked dryly. Despite all of Daryl's attempts to keep his back turned away from her, she had woken in the middle of the night and saw them crisscrossing over his tanned skin in the pale moonlight while he slept. She'd ached to touch them, to kiss them, to soothe the internal wounds that would never heal.

He didn't reply, just dropped his gaze to the floor in a look of defeat. There was a long pause.

"Why can't you talk to me about it? Why don't you trust me? I trust you," her voice shook in the eerie silence of the house.

"It's different, Beth." He was trying desperately to keep his voice calm but her ignorance was driving him up the wall.

"How is it different? I have scars too, remember?" she pushed her wrists in front of his face, the thin pink lines of her botched suicide attempt barely visible.

"You did that to yourself. I didn't choose what happened to me! You tried to take the easy way out and you failed," Daryl cringed internally at the harshness of the words he was spitting in her face.

"You don't know how I felt-" her voice quavered, close to tears.

"You don't know what I went through! You have no idea the shit that people have done to me, Beth. I've been fighting my entire life. You were weak!"

Her face froze at his words, her voice rendered useless as her brain processed the intensity of the words he had spoken.

"I'm not weak," the manner of her voice betrayed her statement, it trembled with her words.

Daryl immediately regretted everything he had said, but was too infuriated to bother correcting his statement. Granted, she was not completely aware of his past, but surely she should know better than to shove her wrists in front of his face and expect sympathy.

She ducked under his arms, freeing herself from the cage he had ensnared her in. Daryl watched wordlessly as she stormed up the stairs without a backwards glance. He heard rustling from the bedroom before she reappeared on the staircase holding a pillow and a blanket from their bed. She marched right past him and towards the single couch in the funeral home, but not before Daryl saw the tears running down her face.

She climbed onto the couch, stuffing the pillow uncomfortably behind her head and turning her body away from him. She curled into the foetal position and went still.

"Beth?" his voice was incredibly tentative, unsure of her reaction.

"Fuck off, Daryl."

As a man who had become accustomed to being sworn at from a young age, Daryl could safely say that he felt taken aback by her comment. She'd only ever used that kind of language in her fits of pleasure, never with a hurtful intent.

"Fine." He could play that card, too. Admitting defeat, he loped upstairs and flopped heavily on the middle of the bed, his eyes closing immediately. He fell into a fitful sleep to the sounds of her soft sobbing resonating throughout the house.

Daryl's eyes flew open hours later, his mind reeling from the dream still haunting his memory. His mother, screaming as his father's fist connected with her stomach, doubling over in pain at the blow. Daryl tried to scream, tried to hurl abuse at the man before him, but when he opened his mouth there was nothing but silence.

Voiceless.

Speechless.

He watched helplessly as his father dragged his mother up by her hair, shoving her forcefully towards the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him. The screams never stopped.

Daryl's hand reached out reflexively, aching to find a warm body beside his, something he could pull close. The opposite side of the bed was cold and empty.

Right.

Beth.

The fight.

He lay there in the darkness, waiting for his breathing and heart rate to return to normal.

The house was silent. Too silent.

Daryl got to his feet, his stomach turning at the horror he had just re-lived. Regardless of the years that would pass, he would always be victim to those memories.

He padded downstairs, searching for Beth. He found her asleep on the same couch, still curled up like a baby. He breathed a sigh of relief at knowing that she was safe. The blanket she had thrown over her was riding up, the skin of her legs were goose bumped in the frigid air. He tentatively took hold of the edge of the blanket to pull it back over her legs when she stirred.

"Hmm, Daryl?" her voice was groggy with sleep as her eyes blinked blearily in the dim light.

"Yeah, it's me. You looked cold," he stated awkwardly.

She mumbled as she woke, turning to face him as she rubbed at her tired eyes with one hand.

"I had a bad dream, and I woke up and you weren't in bed," he continued.

"Your father?" she whispered softly, her heart aching at the slight nod of his head.

"Does it happen often? The dreams?" she pulled herself to a semi-sitting position, propping herself up on the couch cushions so as to see his face better as he stood in front of her.

"Sometimes I don't have them for ages, but they always come back." He sat down at the end of the couch, pulling her legs into his lap.

"I'm sorry," Beth murmured.

"Me too. I don't like remembering those things when I'm with you," he looked at the ground.

"What happened to you?" Beth's voice was almost a whisper. She had never asked for intimate details of his past. After all, this world was nothing like the one they were born into. She had accepted from the beginning of their friendship that he was haunted, broken on the inside.

"I can't tell you. You're too young to know," he glanced quickly up to find her eyes wide.

"If you can't talk about it, then that's okay. But please don't play the 'You're too young' card," she said dryly.

He exhaled hard.

"I don't think you'd look at me the same," he peered up at her face which appeared to be overwhelmed with emotion.

"Nothing could change how I feel about you," Beth replied with certainty, her hand reaching for his and squeezing it encouragingly.

"My dad was a drunk."

Beth nodded, her memory flickering to those nights when Hershel had turned to drink.

"He was an angry drunk. He used to take out that anger on me and Merle when we were kids. Nothing much at first, just yelling. Then he started hitting us. When that wasn't violent enough, he'd cut us. Finally I started fighting back. Knocked a few teeth out, gave him a black eye. He finally figured that he couldn't pick on Merle or me no more, so he started on my mother, beating her and raping her. I'd stay out all night just hiding in the bushes so I wouldn't have to hear my mother screaming."

He paused, unsure of whether this retell of events was too violent. Too honest. There were trails of tears streaming down her face. Her intense gaze urged him on.

"Merle stopped coming home altogether. He fell into a group that dealt drugs. He was always telling me he would save up enough money to take me out of there. We tried to get our mom to leave, but she wouldn't. Kept saying my dad would kill her if she left. She was probably right. That son of a bitch must have found out about Merle and my plan because later that night he did this to me with the poker from the fire," he lifted up the side of his shirt to reveal a horrific burn trailing across his lower back.

Beth clamped her hand over her mouth in shock, her heart suddenly hurting with all of the love that she felt for this man.

"One day I came back and found our house burned to the ground. She was dead. So I packed up my shit and left. Never looked back. Found Merle hanging with a gang of bikers he'd met in juvie and got sucked into that lifestyle. I hated myself. I blamed myself for my scars, my mother, my father, everything. Merle was just like our dad, too. He did some pretty sick shit and I had to pretend I was okay with it because he was the only family I had. I watched all these girls leaving his room with blood noses and black eyes and ignored it."

He paused momentarily to clear the lump of emotion in his throat that was threatening to gush forth into an embarrassing display of waterworks.

"Daryl, you can't feel guilty for that. You didn't have a choice. You were just trying to survive," she whispered softly.

"Everything is different now. Now that I'm with you... I finally feel grateful that Merle is dead. I heard the way he talked about you and Maggie at the prison. I just can't stand the thought of anyone hurting you." He broke off, not allowing his emotions to overwhelm him.

Beth took this moment of silence as an opportunity to crawl towards his body, climbing into his lap and brushing his hair back from his face with her fingers.

"Can I feel them?" her voice was soft, afraid of another violent response. He seemed so uncertain.

"Please. Please trust me."

He nodded ever so slightly, not comfortable with the feelings he knew would soon follow.

Her fingers found the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head with minimal assistance from Daryl. He gritted his teeth as soon as he felt those warm fingers on his back, finding those scars with ease and tracing their journey across his skin.

Beth's stomach clenched with anger as she felt those years of abuse beneath her hands. The thought that anyone could hurt Daryl in that way, when he had been nothing but an innocent child, made her feel nauseous with disgust. She traced each scar, losing count of how many marked his skin, feeling Daryl's breath soft on her neck as she embraced him.

Daryl was completely focussed on not throwing her off his lap as he had earlier. He realised that he was waiting for her response. He was waiting for the look of disgust to dawn on her face when she had touched his battered body, pulling away from this monster in front of her. After all, how could sweet Beth find anything to love in a person like him? He let her touch him, knowing that at any moment she would proclaim that she no longer loved him, that he was a disappointment, that he was ruined.

His eyes burned into her face, determined to read the expression of fear that was surely bubbling below the surface. He was shocked instead to find her eyes watering with something different, something warmer and full of promise. Her breath shook as her fingers traced over the endless patterns of pain and hatred etched into his skin. When she pulled away, her voice was strong.

"You should never feel ashamed of this," she stated, a tear falling from her eye.

There was a moment of silence. Daryl didn't quite know what to say. He could feel Beth's chest humming against his with each gentle sob, could smell her shampoo from those long golden locks that were so close to his face, could see her face outlined in the darkness. So beautiful. Too beautiful for him.  
He felt her lips press a soft kiss to one of the scars on his shoulder, the aching tenderness of the action snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Do you still-" his words failed him. Beth's heart pounded as she felt the words trapped inside his head.

Do you still want me?

Do you still need me?

Do you still love me?

"Always." Her response was short and sweet.

His mouth was suddenly on hers, her fingers threading through his hair instinctually. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her body tight to his as he internally fought the desire to sob. Her tiny hands were stroking his face tenderly, affectionately, lovingly.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," she was murmuring, her words becoming lost in his mouth as he kissed her. His mouth left hers momentarily, finding placement on her neck, nipping at the skin there gently and revelling in the whimpers she made at the sensation.

Beth's armed ached with the crushing force with which she was holding him against her, but she never wanted to let go. She never wanted him to feel alone again, not after everything he had already survived.

His grip tightened around his waist as they tumbled to the floor. Beth landed with her back against the hard floorboards, a slight twinge of pain registering in a far realm of her mind. It was clumsy and imperfect, just like they were.

Daryl slid on top of her, his mouth hungry against hers, his hands pulling her shirt over her head to allow the hot skin of their torsos to slide together. She felt his hands at the top of her jeans, undoing the button and sliding down the zipper with ease as he tugged them off her legs along with her panties. His jeans were the next to go and she eagerly opened her legs beneath him, allowing his body to slide into position above hers.

He tried desperately to ignore the bruises that peppered her hips and thighs from their earlier lust-fuelled session in the kitchen. They served now only to remind him of the brutality that was inflicted upon him, which he had grown to inflict upon women. Poison in his veins. Each purple mark temporarily tattooed on her pale skin glared up at him.

His hand moved down between them to touch her, to judge her readiness, after all this was moving incredibly fast. She batted his hand out the way, arching her back up against his body and wrapping her legs around his waist. This wasn't about foreplay or pleasure. It was about comfort.

"It's okay." Those were the only words that were spoken.

He pushed into her body, his eyes shutting at the sensation of her tight heat wrapping around him. When he finally opened them, she was looking up at him in wonderment, her eyes wide and blinking.

His body moved over hers, into hers, setting a slower and satisfying pace. He loved watching her face below his, she way that she gnawed on her bottom lip, the way that she clung to him, her hips raising to meet his on every delicious thrust. He could feel her breath tickling his neck, her fingers pulling at his hair softly as he made love to her on the floor.

Every thrust into her welcoming body felt therapeutic, every whimper that he elicited from her lips was a reminder that he was still desirable, still wanted. He lost himself in the sensations of making love to Beth Greene, desperate to feel something good after a lifetime of brutality. Her warm hands skimmed over his back, soft and gentle and tender and nothing like the sting of a leather belt, the slice of a broken beer bottle, the singe of a red-hot poker. Her intentions were so different from anything he'd ever felt. He was almost comforted by her hands on his back, as though with every coming together of their hips she was healing one of the jagged lines across his skin.

Beth revelled in the marks beneath her hands. The knowledge that a man who had been treated with such violence, such hatred and such rage could make love to her so gently was heartbreakingly sweet and she found herself wanting to give him so much more, although she was unsure of how that was possible. She'd already given this man everything she had left, but still felt as though somehow he deserved better. She knew that she could never replace the memories of his childhood, but she desperately wanted to try.

Her breath was hitching, each moan that escaped her lips becoming a little more urgent. He pumped into her harder, faster, and revelling in the sensation of her rapid breath on his neck, the way that her tiny hands left his scars and squeezed his shoulders, urging him on.

Daryl moved his lips to her exposed neck, kissing and nipping at the skin as he felt her start to come undone around him. Her blonde hair was spread out beneath her giving her the appearance of having a golden halo as she started to shake beneath him. Her stomach tightened, her breathing stopped for the shortest moment and the soft cry of his name escaped those rosebud lips. He grimaced as he felt her fingernails digging into his back, dragging downwards, intersecting the roadmap of old scars with new ones. Scars that he'd asked for, that he didn't have to be ashamed of. Marks that were a by-product of acceptance and love instead of alcohol and beatings.

He let out a groan, knowing that he was close, the sweet stinging from the scratch marks fuelling his lust. He allowed himself to thrust into her body three more times before moving to pull out, to come undone all over her stomach like he had the time before, but her legs locked around his hips. His eyes sought hers out, unsure of what she wanted. She smiled softly up at him, her eyes sparkling in the dim light as she nodded her head ever so slightly, permitting him to fall over that precipice without fear or hesitation. It was all the encouragement that Daryl needed to find his release, filling up the angel beneath him with everything that he had.

Beth raised her hips to his, her arms wrapping tenderly around his neck and holding him painfully close as his body quivered atop hers, the pain of the past momentarily replaced with pleasure. Her shaky hands brushed his hair from his eyes, pressing gentle kisses to his forehead, their breathing equally fast.

They lay this way for a few minutes, Beth's toes playfully tickling the inside crease of his knee, his head resting in the crook of her neck. She was humming softly, the same song as before. Daryl moved to roll off of her, afraid he would squash her. She quickly mirrored his movement, curling into his chest with a contented sigh.

Words did not need to be exchanged. They were beyond that point.

Daryl finally sat up, reaching for his shirt before feeling Beth's hands tracing the new scars she had just given him.

"Did I hurt you?" she whispered in the dim light, unaware that she had marked him so vividly.

"No. I needed it. Now when I see my scars, I don't just see the bad ones."

She nodded, apprehensive as she leant forward to place a gentle kiss on the red marks. He let out a sigh as he felt her arms encircle his torso, her head resting gently across the battlefield of his back.

"We're going to be okay," she murmured into his skin.

He didn't reply right away, his hands moving to hers and squeezing them gently. The empty cans he had set up as an alarm system by the front door clattered lightly in the wind, and the house was absorbed with an overwhelming silence. A silence that felt like the end of the world. Beth's breath tickled across the back of his neck as she hugged him, and he let his eyes shut momentarily. In a world of destruction, survival and isolation, he had just one person left.

"I hope so."

**Author's Note:**

> Please review, I appreciate every single one :)


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